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O’Conner’s Career 


BY 

ROBERT COSMO fl[ARDING 



SAULSBURY PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BALTIMORE, MD. 


Copyi’ight, 1919, 

Robert Cosmo Harding 


J. F. TAPLEY CO. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

1. Introducing O’Conner .... 9 

IL O’Conner Makes a Decision ... 16 

III. Old Cronies 30 

IV. Con Retrenches 37 

V. Just Boldness 45 

VI. Hopes 52 

VII. Odette Simpson 62 

VIII. Dr. Fleming Is Introduced ... 70 

IX. Fleming Accepts an Office . . 82 

X. As It Was Not Intended ... 87 

XI. The Boomerang — ^and Bromidrosis . 96 

XII. Miss Simpson Loses Her Case . .105 

XIH. Hagan and Warren . ' . . . .114 

XIV. The Phantom Riot 122 

XV. Westward, Ho! 136 

XVI. Clearing for Action .... 145 

XVII. Bright Prospects . . . . .153 

XVHI. GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED . 160 

XIX. Asininity 165 

XX. Preparedness 172 

XXI. A Prospective Customer . . . 177 

XXII. An Exciting Experience . . .183 

XXIH. Circumstantial Evidence . . .189 

XXIV. O’Conner’s Career Ends . . .199 




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BASIC THEME 


There is a lasting better self in the worst 
character — and it can be permanently brought 
to life by the proper influence and appeal. 




















THE CHARACTERS 


James O’Conner, with Aliases. 

Bud Hicks, with Aliases. 

Odette Simpson, a Social Worker. 

Silas Simpson, Her Father. 

Dustin Chalmers, Her Lover. 

Harry Neill, Chief of Detectives. 

Paul Jeffries, Sergeant of Detectives. 

William Knight, Police Inspector. 

Jackson Miller, Penitentiary Warden. 

Mother Haley, a Friend of Crooks. 

Edward Havelin, Salvation Army Santa Claus. 
Salim Hagan, a Crook, also a Penitentiary Guard. 
Oscar Baxter, Superintendent of Sunday School. 
Alex Mangold, a Detective. 

Earl McClatch, a Real Estate Dealer. 

Dan Hawthorne, Saloon Owner. 

Malcolm and Abner Spruce, Farmer Brothers. 
Henry Warren, with Aliases. 

Morgan, Police Secretary. 

Dr. George Edward Fleming. 

Sloan “Doc” Meyer. 

And Other Minor Characters. 


O’CONNOR’S CAREER 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCING o’cONNER 

That all humanity, individually, is a slave to 
habit and to circumstances is a fact recognized be- 
yond all contradiction. Yet there is another phase 
of life, sovereign of all, and unless we be abnormal 
exceptions, the leash which fetters us thereto can- 
not be severed by even the most violent forces. This 
is environment. 

James O’Conner was a victim of environment. 
He was nothing more or less than a thief. Harry 
Neill was a product of environment. He was a 
Catcher of thieves. Bud Hicks was an abnormal 
exception to environment. He was O’Conner’s pal. 
William Knight, another victim of environment, had, 
figuratively, turned turtle characteristically. He 
was an enemy to the class under which O’Conner 
was catalogued by society. Paul Jeffries was a 
victim of circumstances. He was a working com- 
panion of Knight. Odette Simpson was a girl who 
9 


10 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


attempted to wrest from environment its victims. 
Sometimes she was successful, more times she was 
not. Thus is evinced that even though we be born 
under different astrological conditions, at one time 
or another in life there is an intermingling of in- 
fluences, the effect of which upon each individual 
life can only be impressive if the proper appeal is 
made with sufficient force at the psychological 
period. 

- A man can accept the theories and believe in the 
teachings of progressiveness without having one ini- 
tiative of progress himself. So, too, can a man be- 
lieve in the theories and in the teachings of con- 
ventional society, most fittingly corralled in the im- 
mortal Ten Commandments. However, to carve a 
worthy niche in the world wherein a man lives, no 
matter what the dimensions of its scope, he must 
first evince his faith in those laws handed down to 
posterity by God through Moses on Mount Sinai, 
and must have in his makeup a goodly share of ini- 
tiative progressiveness. A man may have a super- 
abundance of initiative progressiveness, but while he 
believes in the theories advanced by the Ten Com- 
mandments and lived by the greatest majority, yet 
does not evince his belief, he it is who will make 
an unworthy niche in the annals of deeds. To this 
latter class, at first, belonged James O’Conner. 

Jackson Miller, Warden of the penitentiary, sat 
before his desk poring over a ledger. He was alone. 


INTRODUCING O’CONNER 


11 


Presently he pressed a small call-button beside the 
desk and when an orderly answered it he looked up 
with a deep scowl and instructed: “Bring Number 
75203.” 

The guard took the numbers on a small slip of 
paper so as to make no mistake and departed to 
carry out the chief’s orders. He was like an au- 
tomaton. 

Immediately he was alone again Miller arose and 
going to a small cupboard-like piece of furniture 
that covered one wall and extended from ceiling to 
floor, ran his eyes along the various sections until 
he found that which he sought — a small piece of 
paper pasted to the iron near the key-lock and upon 
which had been written in with a typewriter the 
numerals 75203. He inserted a key in the lock 
and, pulling out the drawer, removed therefrom its 
contents, consisting of a pair of civilian trousers, 
a civilian coat, a light colored shirt with collar at- 
tached and a few trinkets, which, although they 
may have had some intrinsic value, would have 
been sneered at by the lowest and most tawdry 
pawnbroker. These he gingerly carried to the 
table and placed them thereon, then returned to his 
desk. 

Less than ten minutes later the door of the war- 
den’s office was flung open and there entered a man, 
who despite the prison pallor, was imposing in ap- 
pearance; a youngish man whose eyes twinkled and 
whose features expelled an air of nonchalance. Fol- 


12 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


lowing this individual, almost upon his very heels, 
was the guard. 

Miller again scanned the ledger before him and 
in a monotonous tone read therefrom: “75203 — 
James O’Conner, alias Con.” He looked up, then 
toward the man for confirmation of the correctness 
of the record. The scowl returned to give rise to the 
impression that he was mean to the point of cruelty, 
although such an estimate of Miller would have been 
far from a true valuation, for he was a staunch 
advocate of the theory that human beings are human 
beings, and whether they have erred or not, all should 
be treated in the best possible manner. 

O’Conner gave vent to a short, mirthless laugh 
and said: “Mr. Miller, this is the third time since 
you have been warden here that I have faced you in 
just this way. Seems to me you ought to know 
me by now.” 

Miller’s scowl deepened, if that were possible, and 
he explained: “It’s merely a matter of custom, 
O’Conner — and custom runs things here.” 

“Custom runs things pretty near every other 
place, too,” observed O’Conner. “If it hadn’t been 
for the custom of the police trying to arrest vio- 
lators of the law, I wouldn’t be in this room at this 
particular minute.” 

Miller did not continue the subject, but, taking 
from a small tin box a five-dollar gold piece, he 
handed this and the clothes he had taken from the 
locker to O’Conner with the words: “Con, try and 


INTRODUCING O'CONNER 


13 


see how long you can keep away from here — I mean 
in a compulsory way.” 

Again the short, mirthless laugh and O’Conner 
said: “That is the hardest thing I have to do — 
nor would I ever be here if it weren’t for the police.” 

Miller dismissed the guard and showed O’Conner 
where he could change from prison garb to the 
clothes which he had worn when he had entered the 
penitentiary eighteen months before. Then when 
this change was effected and O’Conner stood before 
him ready to leave, he invited him to sit down. 
O’Conner guessed what was coming and he was 
ready for it. 

Said Miller: “It’s too bad that a man of your 
calibre should lead such a life. Why don’t you 
take a good hold of yourself and turn to a worthier 
occupation.? There’s just as much money in it, if 
not more — and there is far less danger.” 

O’Conner had his answer ready even before the 
warden had finished speaking and he questioned the 
logic in the summing up of the two lives, just 
verbally pointed out to him, by the contradiction: 
“I don’t agree with you. Warden Miller — nor do 
I think that I ever shall. You just said that there’s 
more money in the other life, in business, and that 
it’s safer. But is it.? You can lay a hundred to 
one on it and win, hands down, when you say no. 
I’m not such a simpleton but that I haven’t looked 
into the other side of the game — and I found that 
there’s more danger there. A fellow sinks a lot 


14 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


of money into business and it’s a chance whether 
he’s going to pull out even or lose every red cent of 
it.” 

“But you don’t have to go into business for your- 
self — ^you can work for someone else and then you 
are sure to have something every pay-day,” argued 
the other. 

“Hm! Wouldn’t I be a fine whistle-serf And 
how do I know that I’ll get an envelope every pay- 
day? Don’t you know that there are some bosses 
who know only two words and that is, ‘You’re fired.’ 
No siree, as long as I can pull the long green from 
someone else without drawing his blood. I’ll stick to 
the game I’ve learned and take the safer chance — 
that of being caught by the bulls.” 

“But you haven’t tried the other game.” 

“I don’t have to. As I told you before I’m no 
boob and I’ve heard enough to put me wise for my 
entire life.” 

Miller shrugged his shoulders expressively as a 
signal that he recognized the futility of further 
argument and, arising as a hint that the hour for 
O’Conner’s dismissal was at hand, he said: “Very 
well, O’Conner, I suppose that you know what you 
are doing and, as I have done all I can to reform 
you, I am shifting the blame to your shoulders for 
your future conduct.” 

“Wouldn’t misconduct sound better?” suggested 
he who had been convict number 75203. 

“Perhaps it would. But that’s not the question 


INTRODUCING O’CONNER 


15 


at point. Most men who ate sent here look upon 
a penitentiary — and a jail, too, for that matter — as 
a place where punishment is meted out only. But 
they’re wrong. A penitentiary is a place where 
we put those who infringe upon the laws laid down 
by society in order that they may see the error of 
their ways and come out better men. If they don’t 
come out with a wholesome respect for right doing 
it’s their fault, not ours.” His voice was heavy 
with the earnestness of these enunciations and re- 
vealed that he firmly believed them. 

O’Conner parted his lips to refute that which 
he had just heard, but, thinking better of the mat- 
ter, he held out his hand to Miller who grasped 
and shook it, then, pivoting on his heel, he strode, 
erect of carriage and head held high, out of the 
room and later out upon the street. He was once 
more a “free” man. 


CHAPTER II 


o’cONNER MAKES A DECISION 

O’Conner’s third undoing had been entirely of 
his own making, that is, the police had had nothing 
whatsoever to do with it. Not an ordinary thief, 
as a generale rule, although if a golden opportunity 
to pick someone’s pocket or to put through some 
other mediocre deal presented itself, he was not 
the one who would overlook its consummation. This 
was his creed. 

O’Conner’s last escapade had consisted of the 
working of a new confidence wrinkle through the 
aid of Uncle Samuel’s Postal Service, without the 
sanction of that powerful collective personage. 
Something, somewhere, had gone radically wrong 
and so O’Conner had come a severe cropper and 
the whole affair had simmered down to a bungling 
mess, shamefully unprofessional for one who was 
peerless in the rank and file of the cult. But 
O’Conner, as a get-rich-quick schemer, had been 
shown by the Government Inspectors that he was 
non importe. 

Now that he had served his time for this offense, 
16 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 17 


it was a forgotten incident and merely an incident 
and, as he himself termed it: ‘‘a misapplication and 
mis judgment of the proper business methods that 
should have been pursued.” He had other things, 
far more important than post-mortems, to occupy 
his time and attention, and so, intent upon accom- 
plishing these acts, he started to walk briskly down 
the street. 

A square farther on he became sensitive to the 
fact that it was cold and that little flakes of snow 
persisted in escaping from the banks of clouds 
overhead. It had been summer when he had entered 
the penitentiary. Now it was winter, three days 
after Thanksgiving. A man does not wear heavy 
clothing and an overcoat in June in any city east 
of the Rocky Mountains; nor does he, by his own 
choice, wear light-weight clothing and no overcoat 
when the temperature is hovering below the freezing 
point. O’Conner, not by his own choice, was clad 
in raiment that would have been entirely comfortable 
had the temperature been seventy-five or eighty de- 
grees, and so it is small wonder that forcefully 
he should become aware of the condition of the 
greater elements. Therefore, he turned his coat 
collar up about his neck and lowered the brim of 
the front of the Fedora hat he wore, thereby 
presenting an appearance diverse to the usual, im- 
maculately clad individual he ever was, no matter 
what the game he pursued. But Con had the 
satisfaction of knowing that immediately he reached 


18 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


the city wherein he had established an enviable 
reputation among his kind, at Mother Haley’s there 
reposed in a certain room sufficient togs so that 
he would not be necessitated to lose his reputation 
as the best dressed man in the profession. 

Con’s first objective point was the railroad yard 
and this place he soon reached. Next we find him 
a passenger on a Pullman, de luxe, and as he con- 
tinued his journey thereon, he realized that the air 
was intensely and bitterly cold. 

The very small amount of money which reposed 
securely and snugly in an inside pocket of his coat 
and which, incidentally, was the old cash that he 
possessed in the whole world, he was saving for 
food and lodging when he should arrive in to^vn 
and until he could put through a deal. 

Con did not gaze at the landscape flashing by, 
from a beveled plate-glass window. That sort of 
thing was for the future. But from underneath the 
Pullman, where he clung to a cross-bar with grim 
and desperate determination he could see the fields 
covered with snow. And the swirl and the eddy 
caused by the sixty-mile-per-hour rush of the train 
flung the snow with stinging cruelty into his face. 
Yet, soon he became accustomed to this, in fact, 
it, in a vague sort of way, lulled him into a peace- 
ful frame of mind and he gave himself over to the 
consideration of other things. 

Thus and presently from out the flashings of 
memory and the varied plans for the future there 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 


19 


stood forth the talk with Miller in his office, just 
a few hours previously. 

Miller’s words had sunk deeper than Con had 
intimated to the warden and although he had refuted 
with logical argument, every theory advanced, he 
still was inclined to accept Miller’s views as the more 
wholesome. Nor did it take such an unconscionable 
period of mental strife to place Con in a position 
and in a frame of mind where Miller’s arguments 
began to bear fruit, ultimately resulting in Con de- 
ciding to take a “lick” at the new “graft.” 

Hours later O’Conner recognized the outskirts of 
the city, his destination, and, a little farther on, as 
the train stopped for a set block in the outer yards, 
he, with proper precaution, slipped from his none 
too comfortable berth and as cautiously made his 
way to the nearest tramway line. 

It was snowing copiously now and the wind per- 
sisted in howling a perfect gale, but Con did not 
mind this so much, for after the hardships he had 
encountered during the six hours enroute, this, in 
comparison, was like unto May-day. 

The first penny that O’Conner spent was given to 
the conductor of the tramway — five pennies it was, 
to be explicit — to carry him to the heart of town. 
He entered the car and, again for precau- 
tion, found a seat toward the front end. It was a 
long ride and presently, the car being warm. Con 
had a sense of feeling very comfortable. Also he 
was tired, physically fatigued, but even so he did 


20 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


not doze because he was too ideal a professional to 
take the chance of running afoul an officious gum- 
shoe and be awakened with no consistent answer to 
the question that would be asked of him. Not that 
for him! He had his answer ready now, as he 
ever did when awake, a sort of alibi it was, 
and, consequently, there was never any Wa- 
terloo for him. But fortunately his ride was 
without one interesting incident. In order to keep 
awake he counted all the new buildings along the 
thoroughfares through which the car passed and 
kept tab on all those newly painted; thus his mind 
was continuously occupied until he alighted at a 
corner presided over by Traffic Officers. 

Making his way to a nearby street, he entered a 
second-hand store where he purchased a heavy suit 
of clothes, a clean flannel shirt with collar attached 
and a pair of trousers and before he changed to 
these, he went into a rear room where he washed his 
face and ears and neck and hands. He did not care 
to risk going to Mother Haley’s first, for obvious 
reasons. After that he crossed the street to a 
cafeteria and had a modest meal. Fifteen minutes 
later he was again on the street, along which he 
made his way, with a brisk gait, to a large building 
two squares distant, the City Hall. 

Into the City Hall he went and entering the 
elevator stepped out on the second floor. Adown a 
long corridor he traversed, passed innumerable 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 


21 


offices, until he reached a door marked with enamel 
letters: DETECTIVE BUREAU. 

To the clerk in the outer office O’Conner said: 
“Tell the Colonel that Con wants to see him.” 

The clerk, a new incumbent, first stared in amaze- 
ment, then asked: “Con who.?” 

A slight smile crossed Con’s features as he an- 
swered: “Just plain Con. C-O-N.” 

The clerk departed and upon his return requested 
O’Conner to follow him. 

“Glad to see you, O’Conner,” Harry Neill, Chief 
of Detectives, thus extended greeting, and rising, 
extended his hand. Then invited: “Sit down. Con, 
and help yourself from that box of cigars,” indicat- 
ing a box of two for a quarter guaranteed Havanas. 

O’Conner allowed the smile of an absolute skeptic 
to usurp his features as he extracted a cigar from 
the box and, at the same time seated himself, while 
he remarked: “Are you really glad to see me.? I 
doubt it. Of course for one reason you’re glad but 
honor bright now, way down deep in your heart 
there’s the wish that they’d kept me up there for 
the rest of my life. But that’s neither here nor 
there, for I’m here.” He paused to look around 
him and then returning his attention to Neill he 
observed verbally: “Hasn’t changed a bit — same 
old decorations, same old desk, even the same old air 
of half-smoked cigars.” 

Neill laughed rather raucously and admitted: 


22 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“We haven’t changed a bit here — and we hope that 
the new administration will see fit to let things 
alone.” 

Said O’Conner: “It would indeed be a sinful 
shame to remove an ornament like you. Of course 
you know what the profession calls you.^ Handsome 
Harry !” Here he laughed long and good-naturedly 
and repeated: “Handsome Harry! It’s funny 
how they will persist in twisting actual facts. 
They’d probably call a mud fence on a rainy day 
beautiful, too.” 

Harry Neill was not even good-looking — and he 
knew it. At the age of forty-three, almost bald, 
with a colorful nose-end that told of debauches 
earlier in life and that reminded one of a person 
suffering with a bad cold in his head, his face never 
shaven clean and always one side of his cheek dis- 
tended because inside reposed a generous wad of 
chewing tobacco, his lower lip scarred by a bullet 
wound he had received years ago, he presented any 
but the appearance of a Beau Brummel. He would 
have liked to have resented O’Conner’s ridicule, but 
for diplomatic reasons he merely smiled, rather 
sourly it is true, and returned: “Handsome is as 
handsome does — and that’s you. Lord! but if I 
was as fine to look at as you I’d get me a job as an 
artist model — a sort of masculine Venus de Milo, 
you know — instead of always itching to put my 
hands on something that didn’t belong to me. I’ve 
never known it to fail but that good looks didn’t 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 23 


spoil a man — and more’n half of them ain’t got more 
sense than an ordinary hobo.” 

O’Conner repudiated the other’s estimate by as- 
severating: “But you’ll aUow that there are some 
of us Julian Eltinges who are a damn sight cleverer 
than you and your underlings.” 

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that !” 

“Well, I am. And I can prove it. I’ve pulled 
off, in the last five years, just about sixty jobs and 
only twice could you lay your hands on me.” 

“Three times,” corrected Neill. 

“Three times nothing. This last time it was 
Uncle Samuel’s move that did the trick.” 

Neill now thought it better to change the subject 
and he did so by picking a telegram from a pile on 
his desk and, handing it to O’Conner, said: “I ex- 
pected you to-day or to-morrow. That just came 
in a minute before you did.” 

While the Chief had been talking Con had perused 
the message and now he queried: “Well, I did the 
proper stunt, didn’t I.?” And followed this with the 
hypothetical recitation: “James O’Conner, alias 
Con, late Convict number 75203. Report to Head- 
quarters immediately upon arriving in town or be 
nabbed first crack out of the box and be shoved 
out of the way again. The Unwritten Law of the 
Police.” He laughed rather hollowly. 

Neill laughed too, but its sound was in harsh 
opposition and it was several minutes before he was 
able to say : “I guess you know the rules all right — 


24 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


fact, you ought to seeing that you’re as old a hand 
at the game as I am at mine. But how did you like 
your vacation.^ Let me see — fourth time wasn’t 
it.?” 

Con shook his head wearily. “Your memory is 
bad. Come again. You were one too many. You 
lose.” He jerked the sentences out in staccato suc- 
cession, then, in a slower way, he yielded for the 
other’s benefit: “I didn’t like it a little bit. And 
you know it. It’s a Hell of a place — sours one too 
much. I’d much rather do time in the works be- 
cause there’s more excitement — and you know that 
you won’t be there for long.” 

The Chief of Detectives nodded agreement. 
Some discipline up there, eh.? Sort o’ make you 
walk the white mark.? But it’s fine training, it is.” 

“It’s the sort of training that doesn’t agree with 
a fellow,” scowled Con. 

“Well, not to change the subject again but more 
to make the most of our time, how long are we going 
to have you with us this trip? I was hoping that 
you’d give us a little rest.” 

“Come again,” Con shot forth. “Wliat do you 
want — a job watching a grave-yard.? Didn’t you 
have an eighteen months’ rest.? What do you think 
the citizens of this burg give you six thousand a 
year for anyway.? Not for class, surely ! And you 
fellows never turn out for the annual inspection like 
the harnessed bobbies. But, seriously speaking, I’m 
dead on the rough stuff. There’s nothing in it ex- 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 


25 


cept the high and the low and half the time a fellow 
doesn’t know the altitude.” 

Neill’s brows knitted in perplexity and he queried: 
“What do you mean by high and low.^* That’s a 
new one on me.” 

“So you admit that you’re not wise to everything. 
Well, in the words of Hank Doyle, high is when 
youse is got de cush and low is when youse ain’t got 
the price of er cigarette snipe. But, to come to the 
point, I’m going to get a job — a decent, honest 
job.” 

Neill scrutinized Con steadily for a brief season 
while the subject of this searching returned the gaze 
unwaveringly. Then: “Is that straight.^” asked 
the Chief, his joy but thinly veiled. 

“Have you ever caught me telling a de- 

manded O’Conner petulantly, and then, ere the other 
could utter a word, he answered himself : “No, you 
bet you haven’t. It doesn’t pay to lie, even if you 
are a — a crook. You get caught sooner or later. 
And I suppose that we — you and I and those en- 
gaged in similar professions — learn that sooner than 
your every-day, average man.” He puffed thought- 
fully at his cigar for some time then essayed to 
acquaint the other with the run of his thoughts by 
stating: “There’s no use for me to try to work 

in society again for everyone knows me now and 
even if I did get to any affair I’d be watched like 
a hawk.” 

Neill continued his scrutiny of Con and, still a bit 


26 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


incredulous, more so from force of habit than from 
any doubt as to the latter’s intentions, he asked: 
“What are your plans? What do you intend to do 
— what sort of work?” 

“Oh, there are several positions that I’m capable 
of holding down — salesman or — ” 

“Have you anything in view, anything tangible?” 
Neill smiled because of his present vocabulary and 
the impression that he thought it would make upon 
O’Conner, but the truth is that occasionally Neill 
would hear some new word and looking up its defini- 
tion in a dictionary, he would employ that word upon 
every opportune occasion. 

Whether or not Con had been impressed as Neill 
desired, the latter never knew. Said Con: “Oh, 
I’m not worried about being offered something rea- 
sonable — and on a silver platter at that.” His 
confidence in his statement was remarkable. 

“How much money have you? You didn’t have 
much when you were sent up, if I remember right.” 

“Not much. I had a V when I landed but that’s 
got down to three dollars and thirty cents. How 
did I spend it? Well, five cents went for car- 
fare, a dollar for this suit, four bits for the shirt 
and three jitneys for something to eat. Does that 
make it?” 

“Sort of spending money like a drunken sailor, 
I should say,” laughed Neill. And, forthwith, 
reaching into his trousers’ pocket he extracted a 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 27 


five-dollar gold piece and extended it toward O’Con- 
ner. 

“Yes, it is,” returned the other, “considering that 
my tailor bill just before I tried to turn that scheme 
that sent me up was nearly two hundred bucks.” He 
accepted the money with the stipulation: “I’ll take 
this on condition that you consider it a loan.” 

“Just as you wish. But take my advice and 
don’t be so cock-sure about landing a job. It’s 
been a pretty tough winter so far and there are more 
than twenty-five thousand people out of work right 
here in this town, besides what with Thanksgiving 
just passed and Christmas not so far in the offing, 
the charity organizations and the Salvation Army 
have been swamped. You know the Army had a 
bad fire night before last — their West End Citadel 
burned — six killed. That puts them to onery 
straights.” 

O’Conner displayed only a latent interest and 
enquired : “Any of the Salvationists or firemen kick 
in 

“No — only lodgers.” 

O’Conner frowned and corrected: “You mean 
only bums and hoboes.” Then continued unsym- 
pathetically, even with a hint of joy in his voice: 
“And a damn good thing it was. They’re better 
off dead anyway and so is the world. Nothing but 
a lot of drunks who beg the price of a good-sized 
souse all day and then pawn themselves off to the 


28 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Bootheries with the spiel that they want their souls 
saved. To Hell with their lying souls! If they 
weren’t so lazy and such cowards they’d be the worst 
desperados imaginable and two to one they’d use 
a gattling gun on rich and poor alike. I’ve 
knocked many of them flat who’ve come up to me 
with their whining shots, because they’re a disgrace 
to humanity.” 

“But they’re human just the same.” 

“Oh, yes,” sneered Con, “they are human parasites 
and disease breeders. I have no use for them and 
I’d sooner touch a skunk than to lay alongside of 
one.” 

“But haven’t circumstances made them what they 
are.?” 

Con shook his head emphatically, saying: “Not 
so that any one could notice it. Circumstances 
never make a man so lazy that he can’t keep his body 
clean. Only the rich and the poor, the smart and 
the stupid are influenced by circumstances.” 

The telephone buzzer on Neill’s desk sounded and 
while he answered O’Conner arose and examined 
some old-fashioned guns that hung on the wall. And 
when, a minute later, the Chief replaced the receiver 
on the hook. Con returned to his chair to be informed : 

“That was Jeffries. He saw you come out of 
Libon’s second-hand store but lost you. I told him 
you were here. And now, to show you that I’m 
willing to help you along the narrow path. I’ll issue 
a blanket order to let you severely alone. Suppose 


O’CONNER MAKES A DECISION 29 


you try to land a decent position. And call me up. 
But remember, the first crooked move you make we 
nab you and — ” 

O’Conner arose and Neill followed suit. The two 
men shook hands and Con departed with the words : 
“I’ll remember.” 


CHAPTER III 


OLD CRONIES 

There is an Arabic proverb which says : “A wise 
man’s day is worth a fool’s life.” Yet life is a 
sentence of philosophical composites with good, bad 
and indifferent points; to some consistent, to others 
incongruous ; but we must all read it through to the 
period — the period of death. 

Neill and his associates looked upon O’Conner and 
his cult as fools while O’Conner and his associates 
looked upon Neill and his cult as fools. And who 
is there to say which, at the period of life, should 
prove to be correct.? 

Neill’s position precluded in the minds of the 
public the thought that he was not a model of the 
most honorable: but should an upheaval of investi- 
gation into the methods of the Department come, 
which was likely any day, there would be discovered 
that Neill derived monetary revenue from other 
sources than his salary. 

O’Conner was pointed out as a warning to all 
who would digress from the Commandment : “Thou 
shalt not desire thy neighbor’s wife, neither shalt 
30 


OLD CRONIES 


31 


thou covet thy neighbor’s house, his field or his man- 
servant, or his maid-servant, his ox, or his ass or 
any thing that is thy neighbor’s.” 

The difference between Neill and O’Conner reposed 
in the fact that the former violated his trust sur- 
reptiously while the latter violated but one of the 
laws of society and did that almost openly. So, 
taking all in all, the estimate of the world is based 
upon that which we know. And thus we have the 
basis of paralogism. 

Leaving the City Hall, O’Conner walked rapidly 
down the street until he reached Fulton Avenue 
and continued on up this thoroughfare, which was 
a misnomer for it was nothing more or less than a 
widened alley. 

Before a two-story squat brick building, which 
unmistakably showed the ravages of time, he halted 
and, looking hastily up and down, entered. The 
first floor was occupied by a saloon and as O’Con- 
ner entered and was recognized the greetings ex- 
tended to him were heartily and sincerely effusive. 
Some half dozen men were sitting at the 
various tables and at the front of the bar stood 
an even dozen. All were drinking. O’Conner 
edged his way forward to where a space was 
made for him and the bartender, in a loud voice, 
enquired : 

“What’ll y’ have — on th’ house?” 

“The same thing — ^ginger-ale with a dash of 
lemon.” 


32 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“So you’re still teetotal,” observed the man next 
to him. 

“Lay your money on it,” answered Con and con- 
tinued: “And I always will be. Too many times it 
has proved the undoing of an otherwise cracker jack 
sport.” 

While this was going on there had entered the 
saloon a well, yet plainly dressed man who, casting 
his eyes over the crowd and catching sight of O’Con- 
ner, immediately made his way to him, and when he 
had reached his side he administered a friendly whack 
upon his back and greeted: “Well, of all good 
sights you’re the best! When did you get in.f*” 

O’Conner looked around and with joyous accent 
said : “Hello, Bud Hicks I I landed about three 
hours ago and have just come from a little confab 
with our mutual friend, Neill.” His eyes sparkled 
brilliantly. 

Said Hicks : “Fine and dandy and welcome 
home.” With which words he ordered a rye and 
soda and, holding his glass aloft, fairly shouted: 
“Here’s a welcome to Jimmy O’Conner!” 

Everywhere glasses were raised and the toast was 
drunk with a will that showed the esteem in which 
O’Conner was held by the patrons of Reagan’s. 

After there had been several more rounds of 
drinks, O’Conner and Hicks made their way to the 
pavement. It was snowing outside and growing 
colder, and as Hicks buttoned the collar of his 


OLD CRONIES 


33 


great-coat closer about his neck he glanced at Con 
and inquired: 

“Where’s your overcoat?” 

“We’re going to get it now — it’s with my other 
duds up at Mother Haley’s. I dropped in there” 
— indicating Reagan’s — “with the hope of seeing 
you.” 

Hicks frowned and surmised : “Then you haven’t 
heard. Mother Haley died more than three months 
ago.” 

Con stopped aghast, for the news was quite a 
blow to him. Mother Haley had gained her sou- 
briquet many years ago because of the fact that she 
was a friend of those who lived in the precarious 
sort of way that society frowns upon. And many 
and many a time when one of her roomers had been 
down and out or ill, it was Mother Haley’s bounti- 
fulness that had enabled the individual to tide the 
chasm — and the good old soul never so much as 
asked for monetary compensation, although it is a 
fact to be recorded to the credit of the recipients 
of these humanitarian acts that she was never al- 
lowed to be any save a gainer thereby. It was sev- 
eral minutes ere Con could speak, and then he in- 
quired : 

“Did she — she have a peaceful death?” 

Hicks nodded. “She died happy, for all the boys 
who could get there in time were about the bedside 
as she passed into the Great Beyond. And you 


34 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


should have seen her coffin and her grave ! There 
was no end of flowers.” 

Con showed perturbation and presently evinced 
the trend of his thoughts by stating more to himself 
than to his pal: ‘T guess I’ll have as much chance 
to get my duds as an amateur yegg has of putting 
through a neat job.” 

Hicks substantiated this by saying: “You hit it 
there, all right. When we went back after the fu- 
neral there wasn’t a stitch of clothing to be seen 
anywhere — they even took Mother Haley’s jewelry. 

“Who do you mean by they.?” 

“Search me — but we have our suspicions and they 
don’t lie a hundred miles away from Police Head- 
quarters either.” 

Con muttered an oath as he proceeded in silence 
with Hicks to the main thoroughfare. Here he 
showed that his mind still dwelt upon the loss of 
his clothes by guessing: “More than likely some 
of those movie-actors are sporting them now.” 

“Don’t you ever fool yourself. Anything that 
was worth while in that collection, Friends Bobbies 
couldn’t be pried lose from with a submarine torpedo 
hitting them broadside.” 

Again a considerable space was traversed in si- 
lence until Hicks inquired pointedly: “How much 
money have you.?” 

Con laughed as though Hicks had just told him 
a rip-snorting joke and answered: “Eight dollars 
and thirty cents.” 


OLD CRONIES 


35 


Bud grunted. “Hm ! That won’t carry you 
very far.” 

“I didn’t say it would. But it will have to do 
until I hit something.” 

Hicks in silence considered the proposition, then 
suggested: “How about letting me stake you until 
you make a ten strike.?” 

Con demurred. “I don’t think much of your 
suggestion because you’d have to stint yourself for 
me and that’s just what I’ll not let you do.” 

“No danger of that,” Hicks assured him, explain- 
ing: “I’ve made two good hauls in the last thirty 
days.” Then, taking his pal’s acquiescence for 
granted, he said: “Now let’s see. First you need 
a new outfit to put some class to you, for there’s 
nothing that makes so much for success nor that 
makes such a good impression as a nifty appear- 
ance. And then — well, and then a porterhouse din- 
ner. You can bunk with me until you get on your 
feet. I have a large room just two squares from 
the avenue.” 

O’Conner’s manner still indicated his hesitation 
and he said: “But maybe you won’t want to be 
so generous when you hear that I’m going to strike 
the straight and narrow path.” 

“The deuce you say!” cried Hicks, halting and 
turning to face the other. 

“That’s straight goods,” asseverated Con, rather 
sheepishly. “It is true.” 

Hicks put forth his hand and, as Con grasped it. 


36 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


he promised with a staunchness in his voice that 
somehow succored the spirit of the other : ‘‘If that’s 
so, you can count on me sticking to you so much 
the more. Gosh, I wish I could keep my fingers 
off of property that doesn’t belong to me,” and he 
ended lamely: “but I can’t.” 

“I’m not so sure that I’ll be able to. But it’s 
mighty good of you to stake me. Bud, and I’ll — ” 

Bud interrupted him with : “Nix on that palaver. 
Con, ’cause it don’t go with me. Haven’t we turned 
more’n one trick together and, holy smoke, if we 
don’t stand by one another who will, I’d like to 
know.?* And I don’t want to discourage you, but 
it’s a hand-out to a swell blowout that you’ll not 
find any job, any decent job worth while growing 
on a tree waiting for you to pluck it. There never 
was a sign on a good job that said ‘Welcome.’ And 
there’s a lot of truth in that highbrow saying that 
when a man’s in the dust there’s a thousand feet 
trying to kick him into the mud puddle. Believe 
me or not, I know what it is, ’cause I’ve tried the 
decent racket and know what you’re bucking, while 
this is your first whack at it. Anyway, Old Scout, 
I hope luck comes your way.” 

By this time they had reached the street wherein 
was located the rooms of Bud Hicks, and in silence 
they turned into it. Con’s emotions were too varied 
for immediate speech, while the non-communicative 
mood of Hicks was due to the formulation of other 
ideas. 


CHAPTER IV 


CON RETRENCHES 

Things great but distant may, at the present, 
appear insignificant, yet that does not alter their 
character nor does it make them less great, for it 
is merely the distorted individual vision. So it was 
if with O’Conner. And now, at the end of his first 
day’s search for a decent job, as he sat telling his 
experiences to Hicks, he, was beginning to realize the 
truth in it. Said he: 

“The first place I struck was a tailor’s lay-out. 
Did they have a job.? Yes, they did. Would they 
take me on.? Yes, they would. When could I 
start.? Immediately. And, please, how much do 
I get.? Eight dollars a week for the first four 
months, then a raise to ten, and four months after 
that I’d get fifteen dollars a week. Did I take it.? 
I would consider it. What did they say.? There 
were too many after the job and, although they were 
very sorry, they couldn’t wait. The next place was 
an automobile joint. The answer was that there 
might be something doing, but not at the present 
time. Then I hit a wholesale grocery store. ‘Ever 
37 


38 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


have any experience?’ No. ‘We only want expe- 
rienced men.’ And so it went for twenty-four places 
and the highest bidder for my services was the sew- 
ing place. Can you beat it?” 

Hicks smiled in a superior sort of way and re- 
sorted to that overused expression: “I told you 
so.” Then he went on to elucidate : “I had a cork- 
ing day — two pockets to the tune of forty-one dol- 
lars and nineteen cents.” 

O’Conner pressed his lips firmly together and, 
save to make a grimace, did not evince further the 
inner struggle that was usurping him. 

The second day proved to be no different than the % 
first so far as O’Conner was concerned. His quest 
for a decent job proved utterly fruitless. And so, 
because of that, on the third day he was a caller 
upon Neill. 

“What luck?” queried the chief. 

“Great luck,” answered Con sneeringly. “I had 
an offer at eight dollars per — enough for drinks and 
tobacco for an ordinary man, but as I don’t drink 
I could give the difference to charity.” 

The hint of a smile crossed Neill’s features as he 
said : “And then they expect to reform men or keep 
them from going wrong by offering them a mere 
pittance for valuable time and more valuable labor, 
both mental and physical. Reform them,” he 
snorted; “why, man alive! they’re making men less 
efficient and less reliable instead. And they’re fill- 
ing our penal institutions and overcrowding our in- 


CON RETRENCHES 


39 


sane asylums, besides nourishing bitterness and even 
anarchy right here in our own land — at our very 
doorsteps. Well, it’s not my funeral, but mark my 
word that some day in the very near future there’s 
going to be a revolution that will make any I. W. W. 
riot out on the Coast look like a session of the 
Afternoon Tattin’ Club.” 

“You don’t mean to tell me that you are a So- 
cialist 

“Not the way you think. But let me tell you 
that if I’d have my way about it I’d jail the man 
from whom the thief stole along with the thief. But, 
as it is, what can we do ; we of the law who are here 
to prevent crime if we can, and if we can’t to appre- 
hend the criminal.? Nothing, absolutely nothing but 
allow the truth to be glossed over because society 
demands a certain veneer as a shield of protection. 
Of course, we know that it’s wrong to steal and we 
know that economic conditions are wrong, but if 
we’d so much as open our traps we’d get the G. B. 
quicker’n we could wink.” 

Con arose. He had his own peculiar views on 
the subject, but at the moment was in no mood to 
advance his arguments, and so, reaching for his hat 
on the desk, he promised: “I’ll let you hear from 
me in a day or so.” And departed. 

O’Conner always kept his promise when it was 
possible to do so and therefore Neill heard from 
him the next afternoon. But the information that 
came over the telephone wire was not to the latter’s 


4)0 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


liking, for when Con said: “It’s no use, Colonel, 
I can’t make it a go,” Neill knew that he and his 
force would be at wits’ end to land O’Conner should 
he decide to stay in town. 

Monday morning at seven o’clock James O’Con- 
ner and Bud Hicks were eating breakfast in the 
cafeteria adjacent to the Salvation Army Citadel. 
O’Conner faced the door and presently he arose with 
sudden alacrity and, while reaching for his overcoat 
and hat, he whispered to Bud: “There he goes!” 

Bud was on his feet in a minute and the two 
men hastily departed. As they passed the cashier’s 
desk. Bud threw down a silver dollar and, although 
the two breakfasts did not total more than sixty 
cents, he did not wait for his change. 

The two men trailed their quarry for a block 
and a half, then, just before an alley was reached, 
they closed in on him. 

“Good morning, Santa Claus, and up this alley 
without a whimper. Sabe.?” commanded Con, at 
the same time letting the astonished man feel the 
metallic press and hear the menacing trigger-click 
of the revolver that he held in his overcoat pocket. 

“What do you want?” asked Santa Claus as he 
obeyed without so much as a hint of resistance. And 
said in a weak voice: “I haven’t any money.” 

“We know that,” answered Con, “and we’re not 
going to harm you as long as you play this game 
by the rules that we set down. A little inconven- 


CON RETRENCHES 


41 


ience, dear Brother, a little inconvenience, but you’ll 
be none the worse tomorrow for your experience.” 

Midway up the alley the three entered a doorway 
and up one flight of steps they climbed, then entered 
a rather spacious and extremely comfortably fur- 
nished room. 

“That rear entrance sure is some class,” stated 
Bud with a happy little laugh once the door was 
locked from the inside,” and the best part of it is 
that none of Neill’s men have been able to get a 
line on my roost.” 

Con was too busy sizing up the necessary victim 
to their scheme to give Bud much attention, and 
so when he did speak it was on a different matter. 
Said he: “Bud, you’re too tall. Didn’t I tell you 
that he was just about my size.^” Then, directing 
his attention to the wondering and now-frightened 
Santa Claus, he ordered, not unkindly: “Now, 
Brother, if you’ll just take off that makeup, we’ll 
not bother you any more.” 

Santa Claus, without hesitation, proceeded to 
divest himself of his red and white raiment, knowing 
full well that unless he showed a willingness to com- 
ply with this request, there would be trouble and that 
the only sufferer would be himself. So, as he re- 
moved first his hat, then his coat, next his trousers 
and finally the cotton beard. Con purloined and 
donned the apparel. This took some time to ac- 
complish, but when, with Bud’s aid, he had finally 
succeeded in rigging himself in the outfit to estab- 


42 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


lish a presentable appearance, he went over to a 
dresser and from a drawer extracted a roll of cotton 
and an actor’s makeup tin, then deftly applied the 
colored cosmetics to his face until he was almost 
the counterpart of what the original Santa Claus 
has been. 

Bud now retreated to the opposite side of the 
room and, from a distance, complimented his pal 
upon his appearance, then queried: “Have you got 
enough cold cream with you? You know it’s not 
eslsy to get off and we don’t want any slip-ups.” 

“You bet I have,” answered Con, then reminded: 
“And don’t forget that we make that train at mid- 
night. You bring the suitcases. I’ll be there on 
time if I have to kill the whole of Neill’s force, al- 
though I don’t think any of them will be wise to me. 
But in case something does happen, you go on and 
I’ll meet you later.” 

Con was about to take his departure when a half- 
inarticulate cry from Bud halted him and, turning 
back, he beheld the latter approach him with an iron 
pot and a tripod which the real Santa Claus had 
carried. It required but a minute to possess himself 
of these accoutrements, and the next minute he was 
walking boldly out the front door. 

It was not a long distance to O’Conner’s destina- 
tion, the very busiest corner of the retail shopping 
district, and as soon as he arrived here he set the 
tripod and put the pot in proper position, with its 
display, “KEEP THE POT BOILING,” conspicu- 


CON RETRENCHES 


43 


ously to the front. And imitating the actions of a 
real Salvation Santa Claus, he jingled a small dinner 
bell almost continuously while pacing a short dis- 
tance in either direction from his pot. 

Meanwhile, back in the room Bud made escape 
almost impossible for the imprisoned man by se- 
curing him expertly to the heavy bedpost with a 
stout rope. 

“Sorry to have to do this. Old Chap,” half apolo- 
gized Bud, “but you see I don’t know your strength 
test and I’m not overly anxious to match up with 
you, either. Smoke Certainly you do, even if it 
is against your religion. Here, have one of these,” 
he invited, offering a box of good cigars ; then as the 
man shook his head, he stated with a shrug of his 
shoulders: “You ought to, because it puts pep 
into a. guy. Well, when you want a drink of water, 
don’t mind to open your mouth to shout for it. 
That’ll be about all except that lunch will be served 
at twelve o’clock and dinner about seven. So you 
see you’re doomed to spend the day here, although 
you’ll find that I’m very companionable and the 
time oughtn’t to hang heavy. I’ll tell you what 
we’ll do. After a while we’ll swap stories and it 
doesn’t matter how many lies we tell each other, just 
so we don’t make them too strong.” 

The Salvationist’s eyes lighted and, in a voice 
that would have done credit to any clergyman 
preaching from the pulpit, he said : “Indeed, I shall 
be glad of the opportunity to tell you a story, and 


44 < 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


I promise you that it will be the truth and nothing 
but the truth.” 

“Then it won’t be a story and perhaps won’t 
listen good, but I’ll let you have a try at it anyway. 
What’s it going to be about 

“It’s going to be about our Lord Jesus Christ 
and how he died to save men just like you.” 

“Well, when I get tired telling you tales. I’ll let 
you have the floor, but I warn you beforehand that 
it’s going to be mighty dull hearing.” 

' “Perhaps it will — but it may do more good than 
you or I have any idea, and all that I can say is 
that when I give you the message of Him who was 
crucified, you will derive some benefit from it.” 

At noon O’Conner had quite a collection of 
money and it was with reluctance that he turned 
over his corner to a relief. But he had figured on 
doing this, for with a man of the intelligence that 
he possessed, not even the slightest detail was neg- 
lected in the original planning out of any “job.” 
Therefore, by clever manipulation, he was enabled 
to return to his original standing place along about 
three o’clock and he was overjoyed to find that be- 
cause of preparations being made in the Citadel 
for the Christmas dinner, no collector would make 
the rounds and that each man would turn in his pot 
at the Citadel, unopened at the end of the day. 


CHAPTER V 


JUST BOLDNESS 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon when Paul 
“Slick” Jeffries, Sergeant of Detectives, and William 
Knight, Inspector of Police, the latter in plain 
clothes, and both of whom were considered to be 
the best brains in the entire department, stood at 
the busiest corner of the shopping district to rest 
for a few moments from their arduous duties. 

^‘What I’d like to know is the sort of a game 
O’Conner is going to rush through. Here we have 
all the boys out for him with orders to nab him 
on sight and not a sign or clue of him have we had,” 
remarked Jeffries. 

“It’s a pity that Neill didn’t have sense enough 
to detain him when he blew in,” growled Knight. 
“That bluff of being decent was nothing but a gag 
of his and Neill fell for it like a hungry dog goes for 
a piece of fresh meat.” 

“I’m dead sure he’s here, within as easy reach of 
me as this here Santa Claus is,” asserted Jeffries 
between his teeth, indicating the disguised O’Conner, 
“but the only drawback is that he is slicker than 
45 


46 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


we are. And that’s the only time I lose my title 
when I’m up against O’Conner.” 

O’Conner smiled to himself ; he even snickered a 
bit as he thought how he was succeeding. With him 
the greatest zest was in matching wits with the min- 
ions of the law and of eluding them as was at present 
the case. If Jeffries could only have known how 
fine a truth he had just uttered! “I’m dead sure 
he’s here, within as easy reach of me as this here 
Santa Claus is.” When he had uttered this phrase 
Con had been on the alert, had watched for the hand 
that would grasp his sleeve just below the elbow 
and which grasp would mean that Jeffries knew 
what he was talking about. O’Conner had been 
ready to make a dash for liberty, but the hand had 
not moved in his direction, and so he was aware that 
Jeffries’ speech had been merely a simile. And when 
the Sergeant and the Inspector had moved on up 
the street, Con had flung the words after them, but 
not loud enough for anyone to hear: 

“You poor boobs ! If you had only known. But 
as it is, this Chris Kingle is on the job till quitting 
time. Hm! twenty-five to thirty dollars an hour 
isn’t as bad as it sounds. And with every jangle in 
this pot my estimation and my love for humanity 
increases from a jitney up correspondingly.” 

Half an hour later Jeffries and Knight passed him 
again, and still later three or four other plain clothes 
men whom he knew, but none of them so much as 
had an inkling that the man they sought was within 


JUST BOLDNESS 


47 


arm’s length. And, too, both the traffic officers at 
this corner would call over to him from time to time 
some inanity or a query as to the volume of busi- 
ness. It was the day before Christmas and the 
spirit of brotherhood, if lacking the other three hun- 
dred and sixty-three days in the year, is always a 
paramount factor on Christmas Day and its pred- 
ecessor. 

The little clock back in Bud Hicks’ room indicated 
that it was seven o’clock and forthwith Bud untied 
his prisoner, the Salvationist, however, keeping an 
automatic revolver trained on the man. While he 
took a seat at a table well laden with food he in- 
structed the other to sit opposite him. Then, when 
this had been accomplished, he placed the revolver 
on the table within easy reach of his own hand, but 
entirely out of the bounds of acquisition by the 
other. The afternoon had not dragged, due prin- 
cipally to the entertaining manner with which Bud 
had recited for the other’s benefit tales of experi- 
ences in the life he led, and after a while the Salva- 
tionist had confided in Bud the story of his life. 
And, considering all things, the two in a way were 
quite friendly, although Bud, not trusting his pris- 
oner, kept him under strict surveillance. 

Between the hours of six and seven the crowds in 
the big city and in the downtown districts seem to 
desert the streets and so, even on Christmas Eve, 
as this city was no exception to the general rule. 
Con realized that the time for action had arrived. 


48 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


It ^as five minutes to seven when he, with a yawn 
and a sigh of relief, lifted the pot which he had 
guarded almost all day and, folding the tripod, he 
proceeded to a dark spot where, with a pair of 
nippers, he cut the wire which latticed the top of 
the alms receptacle and extracted the contents. 
Then he counted — two hundred and ninety-seven dol- 
lars in amounts ranging from five-cent pieces to two- 
dollar greenbacks. Nor could he suppress the smile 
of delight that resulted from his appraisal of the 
result of this “job.” Of course, it was small in 
comparison to what ordinarily he would consider a 
good day, but he was absolutely without funds and 
his indebtedness to Hicks was not at all to his liking. 
Now, with his share of the receipts of the day, he 
could reimburse Hicks for his generosity and still 
have sufficient to tide him over until he and Hicks 
could put through a real deal. 

This little coup had been O’Conner’s idea, and 
while Hicks had ridiculed it. Con had gone about 
perfecting plans. And it was only after Con had 
noted his desire to reimburse his pal that the latter 
consented to become a brother in this crime. 

It is strange to take cognizance of the workings 
of the minds of individuals and the philosophy with 
which each views life. Here was Con stealing from 
one to pay another. Also, here was Hicks, who did 
not need the money he had so magnanimously loaned 
O’Conner, aiding in the theft. This principle, when 
differently applied, can cover almost every business 


JUST BOLDNESS 


49 


deal that was ever made, but as such, is catalogued 
superior shrewdness. Thus, the present cry of the 
Socialist, while a long way from Utopia and not 
laid down along consistent lines, will in time be revo- 
lutionized so as to make it the standard of the 
world. 

This money Con now deftly emptied into a leath- 
ern money pouch which he wore fastened to a belt. 
Then, with the tripod under one arm and the pot 
in his hand, he entered a nearby store that was open. 
Here he asked permission to leave his outfit until 
the morning, when he would call for it, because it 
would be dangerous for him to carry an empty pot 
and a tripod in any direction save that which led 
to the Salvation Army Citadel. This he did not 
confide to the clerk, but that individual being a slow 
thinker did not bother himself as to the reason for 
Con’s actions and directed Con to the back of the 
store. 

For his own protection, O’Conner did not remove 
his Santa Claus disguise for he was aware that 
there would be time enough for that when he was 
once free of the downtown section of the city. So, 
with a boldness that removed all suspicion, he 
hastened up the street and had traversed perhaps a 
dozen blocks when the singing voices of children 
reached his ears. And as he came nearer the words 
became more distinct and he recognized them as those 
of a Christmas carol that once, long, long ago, 
when he was an urchin running bare-footed through 


60 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


the tenement districts of the city and learning more 
of the vices than of the virtues of life, his mother 
had taught him. But then the meaning of the song 
had left no impression on him and his mother had 
not taken the time to explain them. 

Now he stopped outside the church from whence 
the singing came to' listen a while longer, why he 
could never explain even to himself save to say later, 
when he was in an unpleasant frame of mind, that 
Fate had had a grudge against him. And then 
something happened — for a voice, soft and low and 
pleasantly musical and quite close to him, exclaimed : 

“Ah, a Santa gone astray!” 

O’Conner looked around to behold a young girl of 
not more than nineteen summers smiling at him from 
beneath a most becoming hat. For the moment he 
was nonplussed because women and girls did not 
enter into his life unless it was the kind whom he 
could easily wield. But this girl was different, he 
knew instinctively and at once. He surmised that 
she was the daughter of some wealthy citizen, as 
he judged from clothes only and that, therefore, 
she was well protected from the coarseness of the 
life in which he lived. 

Something tied his tongue, a look in her eyes it 
may have been or the quality of her voice, he never 
knew which, and before he could even think for con- 
sistent movement the sweet voice again said: 

“If you are waiting for your automobile, Santa 
Claus, as most modern ones do, perhaps you would 


JUST BOLDNESS 


51 


like to step inside where it isn’t quite so cold.” Her 
voice was ripe with cordiality. 

Con fumbled for a plausible excuse, but ere one 
presented itself to him the girl slipped her arm con- 
fidently through his and, with a slight tug, urged 
him on and to enter. Self-willed as he ever was 
and never influenced by any sentiment whatsoever, 
he was surprised that for the first time in his life 
to his knowledge he could not resist a plea. So, 
without any more thought of the future, he allowed 
himself to be led whither the girl would take him. 


CHAPTER VI 


HOPES 

In every man there is the possibility of great- 
ness, but the probability is such a rarity that in his 
hour it sets him aloof. Now, as O’Conner took his 
seat in a rear pew and, as if with one single glance, 
estimated the congregation, a certain subconscious- 
ness told him that the first of his hours of greatness 
was near at hand, although of what fabric was to 
him still an enigma. 

The first glance about him had sent a spasm of 
disgust over him as he beheld the cosmopolitan ap- 
pearance of it, an impression that reminded liim of 
the stories anent war prisoners which he had read 
in the newspapers, for here before his very eyes sat 
in amiability Germans, Italians, Hungarians, Rus- 
sians, Swedes and not a few Americans. But this 
feeling was soon dispelled by the soft chatter of the 
children, all for the occasion, scrubbed to a shining 
cleanliness and with their only best raiment gracing 
their bodies. They and they alone now held his 
attention, and especially those who occupied the 
front dozen pews. 


52 


HOPES 


53 


O’Conner’s curiosity, never dormant yet always 
latent, was one of the reasons for the fact that he 
decided to remain. Yet this was not the paramount 
reason by any means, for, as the truth will out 
sooner or later, O’Conner had come under the spell 
of a young girl and, although he knew without being 
told that there was not the hope of even a friend- 
ship with this to him bewitching creature, he still 
retained a desire to hear, ere he left her forever, the 
sound of her sweet voice and to once again feel 
the touch of her hand. The big clock at the right 
side of the pulpit indicated that it was a few min- 
utes to the hour of eight and as he was not due 
to catch the train whereon he would meet Bud Hicks 
until midnight, and as he could cover the distance 
from the church to the train in less than half an 
hour, he saw no reason why he should hurry; more- 
over, this place was the safest harbor possible, for 
it was likely that within an hour the Salvationists 
would miss a Santa Claus and report the loss to the 
police. Of course, this was problematical, yet it 
was always better to be overly cautious than the 
least bit bold. 

Ever and anon O’Conner would catch a glimpse 
of the young girl, flitting here and there, whisper- 
ing something to an old man, complimenting a mother 
anent the appearance of her child or petting the 
child itself. Then suddenly a hush fell over the 
place and an organist commenced to play the open- 
ing bars of a Christmas carol, one unfamiliar to 


54 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Con. And presently there arose on the air again 
the voices of children singing. Con listened with 
rapt attention and, as hardened as he was, he found 
it difficult to restrain tears from entering his eyes. 
At last the song ended and the organist, with a 
flourish, played the final few bars. A momentary 
lull ensued and then a man, who was heralded as 
Oscar Baxter, Superintendent of the Sunday School, 
mounted to a small, improvised stage to the left of 
the altar and conducted a short reading from the 
Scriptures. 

“ ‘And a little child shall lead them,’ ” said the 
voice of the Superintendent, but as the words reached 
O’Conner’s ears they said: 

“And a bewitching girl shall lead him.” 

O’Conner was far from the term of sentimentalist 
and so with a straightening of his figure he, under 
his breath, muttered to himself : “Cut the sob stuff. 
Con, or else you’ll be getting religion and then the 
Lord only knows what will happen to you.” 

Following the Scriptural reading, the Superin- 
tendent announced that a few of the more talented 
of the children would present a Christmas playlet 
entitled, “A Child’s Christmas Dream.” And even 
before he had retreated two steps, curtains de- 
scended to hide the stage. Yet scarcely a minute 
later they were drawn back again to reveal the 
setting. 

There before one’s eyes was the snuggest and 
coziest of bedrooms, with a fireplace in which glowed 


HOPES 


55 


illusioning red lights. From the chimney place 
there dangled two small stockings and before a bed, 
making a most appealing tableau, knelt two chil- 
dren in prayerful attitude at their mother’s feet, 
while the lamp, which was set upon a table some 
distance away, burned with a low, yet mellow, 
glimmer. 

O’Conner was deeply touched, for he had not seen 
such a picture of home life in years — in fact, he 
doubted whether such a scene upon which he now 
gazed were a possibility. 

The children finished their prayers with the words : 

“Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray Thee, Lord, 
my soul to keep; if I should die before I wake, I 
pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take.” 

As well known as the words are to nine-tenths of 
the inhabitants of this country, they were new to 
Con, and he repeated them, almost mechanically, 
it seemed, after the children. Yet he had no time 
to soliloquize, for there was acting upon the stage 
that claimed his attention ; he beheld the mother tuck 
both children between the covers and kiss them 
fondly, then leave the room. 

Children will be children, and no sooner had the 
mother closed the door than there was a ferocious 
battle of pillows between the little ones, and it would 
have gone on indefinitely had not the entrance of a 
Santa Claus, emerging from the fireplace, inter- 
rupted it. Con knew that the dream was on. 

The little ones frantically sought refuge under 


56 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


the covers, but Santa, in a kindly voice bade them 
arise; and after they had obeyed and he had placed 
one on each knee, he said: 

“Children, do you believe in God?” 

There was a pause and then in chorus the two 
children lisped: “Indeed, good Santa Claus, we do 
believe in God.” 

“And why do you believe in God?” 

“Because he is good and powerful and because 
he made the world and you and us.” 

' “And do you believe in me?” 

“Indeed we do, dear Santa Claus.” 

“And why do you believe in me?” 

“Because you are the messenger of our Lord Jesus 
Christ and He sends you to us once each year so 
that everyone will be happy on His birthday.” 

“And is that all?” 

“Oh, no, sir; but because He would lead sinners 
to Him so that He can show them the right way to 
live.” 

“Well, if you were Santa Claus, what would you 
do.?” 

“We would give to those who need.” 

“And do you know many people who are worthy 
and who really need?” 

The two children slipped down from Santa Claus’ 
knees and, going over to the table, picked up two 
pieces of paper, then, returning almost immediately 
to the seats they had just vacated, simultaneously 
they handed the pieces of paper to the Kris Kingle 


HOPES 


57 


and explained: ‘‘We have here a list of those who 
would give to those that need.” 

Santa Claus took the pieces of paper and, after 
placing the two children in bed, read therefrom: 
“ ‘The bakers.’ ” 

Immediately there was a stir among those in the 
front pews and four little children dressed as bakers 
and with large baskets filled with loaves of bread, 
which they could scarcely carry, advanced to the 
stage and placed their baskets thereon. 

“ ‘The grocers’,” read Santa. 

There was another stir in the audience and some 
twenty-five children advanced, each carrying a basket 
filled with groceries. 

And so Santa read down the list and the provi- 
sions kept piling upon the stage until it resembled 
a well stocked provision market. Then a scowl 
settled upon Santa’s countenance and he said: 

“This is not enough, because I have only enough 
food here to fill two hundred and seventeen baskets 
and I have one hundred and fifty more whom I know 
need. So, to-morrow, on the Lord’s birth anniver- 
sary, there will be one hundred and fifty families 
disappointed. It seems a shame, but we cannot help 
it, for each one of these baskets represents one dol- 
lar and there were only two hundred and seventeen 
dollars contributed.” 

O’Conner, sitting in a rear pew, had been deeply 
impressed by the performance and the benevolent 
spirit it represented, and a sudden inspiration came 


58 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


to him. So acting quickly, on the spur of the mo- 
ment and impulsively, as it were, he surreptitiously 
counted out fifty dollars from the amount which he 
had taken from the Salvation Army alms receptacle 
and which now reposed in a pouch in his belt. This 
he thrust into his pocket. 

There was a sudden movement on Con’s part and 
the congregation beheld a second Santa Claus make 
his way to the front and mount to the stage where, 
turning to the two children and in a voice which 
quavered with nervousness, say : 

“Children, when you gave your list to Santa Claus, 
he said you gave him not enough and that there 
was not enough to go around in the way of baskets, 
but Santa Claus forgot that he had a twin brother 
upon whom he could call for the difference. So,” 
he continued, opening his coat and bringing forth 
to view the leathern pouch, “the contents of this 
pouch will buy sufficient provisions to fill two hun- 
dred and forty-seven baskets.” 

Silence greeted this announcement, for the good 
news had come like a flash of sunshine from a cloudy 
sky, but as Con left the stage there was a burst of 
applause and such enthusiasm as had never been 
recorded within the portals of this place of wor- 
ship. 

Con immediately made his way to the door, for 
he knew that there would be inquiries as to his iden- 
tity and this was the last thing which he could af- 
ford. And he was about to pass out into the en- 


HOPES 


59 


trance vestibule when a detaining hand was laid on 
his arm and a voice, the same that had bade him 
enter, inquired: 

“Who are you, good Santa?” 

Con turned to look again into the sparkling eyes 
and at the flushed cheeks of his sponsor. For a 
moment he hesitated ; then, in a voice that was husky 
with emotion, he answered: “I am the believer of 
real charity. I take from the rich and give to the 
poor. I am the true personification of Santa 
Claus.” 

“But your real name — your everyday name. 
What is that?” persisted the girl, still allowing her 
arm to rest on his. 

Con hesitated. 

“Won’t you please tell me who you are?” pleaded 
the girl. ^‘You see it is so rarely one meets real 
benevolence that one is loath to remain ignorant of 
his identity.” 

Again Con hesitated, but straightening up and 
wincing he said: “Yes, I will tell you who I am, 
but only on one condition, that to these people here 
to-night you will never connect their anonymous 
Santa Claus with me. And when in to-morrow’s 
papers you read the name O’Conner — James O’Con- 
ner — and what they say of me, please do not think 
too harshly of me, but remember that I, too, gave 
to the poor. Now, won’t you tell me your name? 
You see, I’d like to remember you because — ” His 
voice trailed off weakly and then died. 


60 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


The girl was mystified, but seeing that Con would 
say no more she told him very simply : “I am 
Odette Simpson, Mr. O’Conner, and you’ll not for- 
get me, will you, because I’m very happy indeed to 
have known you.” She extended her hand, but Con, 
pretending to ignore it, promised: 

“Yes, I will remember you because I have good 
reasons for doing so. And now, as I must be off — 
good-by !” 

“Oh, Mr. O’Conner — oh, wait a minute, please — 
Mr. O’Conner!” the girl called. 

But Con had vanished, had been swallowed up in 
the darkness of an alleyway. And when he emerged 
from the alley a few minutes later he was no longer 
a Santa Claus. 

The next morning in the diner of a train speeding 
westward, James O’Conner and Bud Hicks looked 
out upon the snow fields and Con, leaning over to 
Bud, whispered: 

“Some difference from my last train ride.” 

Bud’s mind was on another matter and he evinced 
this by asking in an undertone: “How much did 
we net on the S. A. deal?” 

“In reality,” answered Con, “two hundred and 
ninety-seven dollars, but — ^well, I gave all but fifty 
to the poor. And it’s the best thing we ever con- 
tributed to in our lives.” And forthwith he recited 
in detail the incidents of his evening’s experience. 


HOPES 


61 


Bud frowned, not an ugly scowl, but a thoughtful 
one, yet Con, misinterpreting this, said: 

“And if you think I’m lying, why just you write 
to Miss Odette Simpson. She knows.” 

Bud smiled and said: “I believe you. Old Pal, 
and I’m glad you did it. You see, we two don’t lie 
to each other — and anyway not on a day like this. 
Merry Christmas, Con!” 


CHAPTER VII 


ODETTE SIMPSON 

Silas Simpson, the father of Odette, was a self- 
made man who had risen, after a bitter struggle 
and years of unceasing toil, to the realms of the 
Rich. But, contrary to the majority of precedents, 
and because of the lack of all proper sentimentality 
and perhaps the right perspective of life, he had 
no sympathy for those who are forced to live in the 
life from which he had emerged, battle-scarred yet 
triumphant. To be explicit, Silas Simpson con- 
tended that every man has an equal chance, and 
that if he does not get his share of the world’s best, 
it is his fault and not due to any extenuating cir- 
cumstances. 

Simpson had been within one rung of the goal of 
his ambition, that of having an income exceeding 
one hundred thousand dollars per annum, when he 
had met Odette’s mother, the only daughter of a 
middle-class clergyman. Mrs. Simpson had been 
well educated in so far as the academics were con- 
cerned, but neither she nor her father being worldly 
wise, it was an easy matter for Silas to add this 
62 


ODETTE SIMPSON 


63 


very pretty miss to his, as he unflatteringly termed 
it, “trophies.” Oddly enough the two lived con- 
genially and the result was a daughter. 

Odette had inherited all of her mother’s virtuous 
qualities, slightly intensified, and the best side of her 
father’s qualities. After a thorough schooling, a 
brilliant future in the social world had been planned 
for her, but Odette’s strong will asserted itself in 
the fact that she rebelled. Consequently there had 
been a split between father and daughter, shortly 
after the mother’s death, and Odette, with a suffi- 
cient monthly income settled upon her to meet all 
the demands of the life to which she had been ac- 
customed, had taken an apartment in the tenement 
district where she intended to devote most of her 
timd to real settlement work. 

Now, in her room, Odette Simpson arose earlier 
than usual on this Christmas morning and hastily 
sought the paper at the front door and, with a little 
sigh, turned the pages, hunting for the name O’Con- 
ner. But she saw it not. And she was about to 
lay it down when there, on the first page, she read 
the two-column headlined article: 

SALVATION ARMY VICTIM OF CLEVER CROOK 
DRAG-NET OUT. THIEF SOUGHT 

The article went on to state the story of a Salva- 
tion Army Santa Claus and detailed his experience. 
He gave a good description of the two men and 
from this the police knew immediately that they an- 


64 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


swered to the names of James O’Conner and Bud 
Hicks. Underneath this there appeared the records 
of the two men that had been filed to date in the 
annals of the police. Also, there was a reward of 
three hundred dollars offered for any information 
that would lead to the apprehension of the two 
criminals. 

Odette gasped as the fuU significance of O’Con- 
ner’s past life dawned upon her. At first she was 
disgusted and even shuddered at the thought that 
she had touched the hand of such a man. To date, 
Odette’s work had been among the poor only; she 
had not had one case where her influence was needed 
to regenerate those who had fallen prey to evil 
ways. In truth, she had not figured on this phase 
of a social worker’s duty, and so it was small won- 
der that her feeling should be one of repugnance. 

What should she do ? Should she attempt to mar- 
shal O’Conner into the realms of decency.? Or 
should she forget him.? These thoughts came to 
her as she ate her solitary breakfast. Then, out 
of the whirlpool there arose two determinations, one 
of which must be cast off. But which one.? To 
Odette that was the mind-disturbing problem. She 
wondered was she so mentally constructed that her 
individuality must needs dominate O’Conner’s or 
whether O’Conner’s strength of character, now so 
wrongly applied, would, without friction, be sub- 
servient to her earnest efforts. It was possible that 
O’Conner’s nature was characteristically so unsym- 


ODETTE SIMPSON 


65 


pathetic that in his dealings with her he would scoff 
at her as an interfering and wholly unpleasant per- 
son. 

She must decide herself what to do; that much 
was certain. Nor could she procrastinate. There- 
fore, by the time she had finished breakfast she had 
mapped out her plan of action in regard to her 
conduct of approaching O’Conner. So, with this 
ultimate end in view, she directed her first steps 
toward the police headquarters. 

When Odette’s card was brought to Neill, he 
frowned, for while he knew of her and her work, 
he did not relish the idea of women, other than his 
stool-pigeons, taking a hand in any case. And he 
knew that unless such was the girl’s intention, she 
would not be a visitor to his office. However, he 
decided that he would listen to her and in the event 
that his surmise of her visit was correct, would 
argue her out of her determination. 

“I’ve heard of you and of your good work. Miss 
Simpson — and I know your father,” was Neill’s 
greeting as he offered her a chair. “What can I do 
for you.'^” 

Odette dimpled prettily and answered: “I don’t 
know what you can do for me — maybe nothing at all 
and perhaps you can aid me very much.” 

Neill smiled. His surmise had been correct. This 
girl was about to interfere in some case where evi- 
dently either a man or a woman whom she had 
taken under her wing had transgressed the law. 


66 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


And he was ready to overlook any offense, providing 
it was not of too great a magnitude, and to yield 
to Odette’s entreaties in behalf of her near-ward. 
So, with this object in view, he promised: “Any- 
thing that I can do for you. Miss Simpson, will 
give me pleasure. Has one of your fold gotten in 
trouble.?” 

“He is not one of my fold already, but I have 
the greatest hopes that he will be — and soon too.” 

“Then it is a man and not the mother of perhaps 
half a dozen children.?” 

“I see you’re not taking me very seriously or else 
you have already decided to let me have my way,” 
accused Odette. 

Neill fairly shook with laughter and, when he had 
controlled himself sufficiently for speech, he said con- 
descendingly, although he tried to be patronizing: 
“You’re a bright little girl. Miss Simpson, and I’ll 
tell you now that you got me first crack o’ the 
whip.” 

Odette’s expression remained serious as she as- 
serted: “You do not know about whom I am speak- 
ing, and it may not be such a laughing matter to 
you after all. But as you’ve promised to yield to 
me and as I am going to hold you strictly to that 
promise. I’ll — ” 

Neill laughed loudly again, saying: “I’ll go 
downstairs with you now to the detention cells and 
I myself will hand over your man to you. But I’ll 
hold you partly responsible for his future conduct.” 


ODETTE SIMPSON 


67 


“Then you have him in custody already? The 
paper said that you had out a drag-net for him.” 

Still not guessing of whom Odette was speaking, 
Neill answered: “When we put out our drag-net 
none escape.” 

“Then you caught him — and I may see Mr. 
O’Conner and take him under my wing?” 

Had a bomb exploded beside Neill, as the old 
saying is, he could not have been more taken by sur- 
prise. But, schooled in the art of concealing his 
emotions, he asked in a matter-of-fact tone: “So it’s 
O’Conner whom you have singled out?” Then, with 
a hint of grilling, he went on: “How did you ever 
hear of him?” 

“I — I met him last night.” 

“The deuce you say!” 

“And now I want to talk with him — I’m going 
to try to reform him and — ” 

“But you can’t talk to him — now.” 

“Why can’t I? You promised.” 

“Well, for the very simple reason that we can’t 
find a trace of him — ^nor of his pal. Bud Hicks, 
though we’ve had all of our best men on their trail 
since shortly after midnight. If you can give us 
any information that will help us to capture him. 
I’ll let you do all the reforming you want and won’t 
interfere with your method except that I must insist 
that we keep him behind bars until his reformation, 
if it is at all possible, is a sure thing.” 

“I wish I could help you, not to land him in a 


68 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


cell, but so that I might start my work on him. 
From what I have garnered of his innermost traits, 
I think that he can be made into a most sterling 
specimen of manhood.” 

“Then how did it happen that you met him.?” 

Odette at once fell into a recital of the episode 
at the church and finished with: “And so you see 
that he is at least human and has a soul. And any 
soul is worth saving.” 

-Neill shook his head negatively and in the way 
of all police evinced his distrust of any act or word 
of a known crook by the observation: “Now, Miss 
Simpson, I have heard your side and it sounds 
plausible enough — but that is when you don’t know 
the man, yet from my experiences, and they have 
been many, I have found that there is always a 
method, nine times out of ten, maybe ten times out 
of ten, underhanded in everything they do. You 
know you have done splendid work along the lines 
you have followed and, while I’m not dictating to 
you and you may do as you like, for I intend to 
stick to my promise when we do get our hands on 
O’Conner, if I were you I wouldn’t forge ahead on 
anything else — in other words, I wouldn’t tackle 
O’Conner, for he’s beyond even the hope of coming 
to himself.” 

“How do you know there is no hope for him? 
How do you know that with the proper influence 
he would not make a good citizen?” 

“Miss Simpson, we police never make an assertion 


ODETTE SIMPSON 


69 


that is not based on something. In this case we’ve 
given your man a pretty fair trial and it’s no use.” 

Odette was silent for some few minutes, then ris- 
ing, preparatory to departure, she took out a card 
from her case and, writing thereon her address, 
handed this to Neill with the request: “When you 
do get this man, you’ll let me know, won’t you ? And 
— and thank you for giving me this time and con- 
sideration.” 

Neill arose also and while escorting Odette to the 
door he assured her : “I’ll let you know. Miss Simp- 
son, but you’ll have a hard job on your hands and, 
as I said before, I don’t think you’ll be very suc- 
cessful.” 

“We’ll see,” were Odette’s parting words. 


CHAPTER VIII 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 

O’Conner and Bud Hicks immediately they 
quitted the dining car made their way to the ob- 
servation car at the rear. There were many things 
to be discussed, principally their destination and the 
outlook for their future. 

“Well, Con, what’s your idea.^” Hicks thus con- 
sulted his pal. 

“I suggest that we ride on to the next big town 
and return.” 

“But that would be suicide. You know that Neill 
has his drag-net out and we wouldn’t be there half 
an hour before they’d get us.” 

“Oh, I’m not going crazy, as you think. Now, 
just you leave it to me and we’ll make a good haul 
besides.” 

“Very well, but I’m rather leery of this putting 
our necks in the noose.” 

“There’s nothing to it, for once I explain my idea 
to you, you’ll say it’s the best you’ve ever heard. 
And I’ll be responsible for everything.” 

“But why not get out at some small burg and — ” 
70 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 71 


“Some feather-brain, you are, to be sure,” Con 
interrupted, though without a sting. “Don’t you 
know that if we land in any By Heck Burg the vil- 
lage constable, having received a message from Neill 
to be on the lookout, will spot us and march us up 
to the town lock-up. We’d be as conspicuous in 
any Rubenville as the President of the United States 
is in Oshkosh.” 

“You’re right. Con, and from now on I’ll leave 
everything in your hands.” 

And so it was that when the next big town was 
reached, which incidehtally happened to haye about 
as many inhabitants as the one they had just left, 
O’Conner left Bud near the gate to the trains while 
he went inside the depot proper. Five minutes later 
he rejoined Bud and, seeing the look of inquiry 
which Bud cast toward him, he satisfied that curios- 
ity by handing over a telegram with the assertion: 
“I sent that.” 

Bud, perusing the message, smiled and at the 
same time complimented his pal by saying : “I have 
to hand it to you. Con, for having some nob.” 

“I knew you’d say it was a good idea and — 
Hurry up now for our train leaves in ten minutes.” 

And back in Neill’s office he read a telegram which 
informed him that Bud Hicks and James O’Conner 
were leaving his' precincts forever and wished 
him happiness for the remainder of his natural 
life. 


72 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Neill, Jeffries and Knight were in earnest serious 
conference in the former’s office. 

“It’s got my goat,” snapped Jeffries, using the 
vernacular and banging the table with his large fist 
in order to emphasize his statement and his feelings 
as well. “Six hauls in a month and every one of 
my men and your men working like beavers. Who 
is putting this jinx on us, I’d like to know. It’s un- 
believable — sort o’ uncannylike because all we get 
,are clues that lead to nowhere in particular. And 
take it from me, these jobs are the work of one 
crowd. But who are they.? Who I ask.? New- 
comers couldn’t keep the pace and get away with it, 
I tell you, not alone to make a continuous perform- 
ance. Every last one of those jobs is the work of 
professionals. And if you want to know the truth, 
I’m up in the air, I am.” 

“It does look as though we’re up against it,” ad- 
mitted Neill, reluctantly and, it is true, somewhat 
dolefully, the while he stroked his graying hair. 
“That drag-net of ours was like a porous paper 
sieve. The fact of the matter is, I’m willing — al- 
most — to lay down ; that is, for a time at least.” 

“There’s one thing I noticed in checking up those 
jobs and that was that each and every one of them 
bore marks of similarity — and to me they smack of 
O’Conner and Hicks,” advanced Knight, frowning 
most unpleasantly. 

The other two nodded their heads affirmatively, 
then eJeffries verbally doubted: 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 73 


“Yes, it might be, but it isn’t very probable. Con 
and Hicks are wanted here for that Salvation Army 
pull-off the day before Christmas and they know 
we want them, so it’s not likely that they’ll show 
their faces inside the boundary limits of this State 
for some time to come. And anyway, we’ve got to 
give the devils their dues and shake the idea of O’Con- 
ner and Hicks being guilty.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m inclined to the be- 
lief that it’s the work of foreigners,” opined Neill 
wearily. “I’m not so cock-sure either that there’s 
not a woman being used, either as an accomplice, a 
sort of blind or as a co-worker. It’s just as Jeffries 
said a few minutes ago : we get plenty of clues that 
lead us to a certain point and then dwindle like an 
icicle does when you put it in a hot oven.” 

“Well, whoever they are — and it’s not a lone-hand 
job — they are certainly having the big ha ha on 
us,” asserted Jeffries in a voice which evinced that 
he did not relish the thought. 

There was a limited season of silence which was 
broken by Knight, who inquired: “How about the 
swag.? Any clues there.?” 

“About as many as there are flies at the North 
Pole in the dead of winter,” answered Neill monot- 
onously. “They haven’t tried to get rid of even a 
brass tack — they’re too wise for that. Of course 
they know, damn ’em, that we’re watching all the 
fences and pawn-shops and — ” 

“It seems to me,” Knight interrupted, “that if the 


74 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


newspapers would quit their confounded howling and 
stop making fifty-seven varieties of hash out of this 
story in every issue, that we might get a look-in on 
something that seems like a tangible’ clue.” 

Jeffries, shaking his head, verbally disagreed: 
“Those crooks don’t give a hang for what the news- 
papers say. And the more I think of it the more 
it appears to me that that woman clue is a fine 
bluff. Their game is too big for a woman to be 
dabbling in and — Why, so far, the amount of 
jewels stolen amounts to nearly two hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars.” 

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the 
owners’ estimation, but in actual value you could 
buy the whole smear for fifty thousand,” Neill vouch- 
safed. 

“How many private agencies on the case.?^” queried 
Knight, and needlessly explained: “I haven’t been 
able to follow this as closely as I desired owing to 
that triple murder and those two conventions. You 
know, we didn’t have one case of larceny recorded 
during the conventions. And that’s what makes 
these jobs all the more heart-breaking for us, al- 
though it shows us that the crowd doesn’t work in 
the open, else we’d have caught them long before 
this.” 

“Three agencies are working hand-in-hand with 
us,” answered Neill, “and they get clues too — any 
number of them — but they fall down like a row of 
pins in a ten-strike. We’re all working along two 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 75 


lines now — one with a woman as one of the gang 
and the other with her eliminated.” 

“Well, whatever else it is, it’s Hell for us,” growled 
Jeffries. “Here we no sooner get rid of O’Conner 
and Hicks and think to have a few hours of home 
life, a pipe or two full of tobacco and a game with 
the kiddies than we run afowl a bar as clever as any- 
one ever put in our way. Of course, we have the 
consolation of knowing that it’s a game of wits — 
and whether they hold out for another job or whether 
we get them before that, although in the long run, 
they’ll be our quarry.” 

“But how long the run is going to be, the good 
Lord only knows,” augmented Knight. 

Neill now drifted from the subject by asserting: 
“Suppose we cut out these post-mortems, seeing 
they’re not doing us any good, and get down to 
plans for action. Jeffries, who gives the next big 
social affair.?” 

Jeffries dug into a pocket of his coat and, extract- 
ing a note-book, consulted this, then read aloud: 
“Thomas Crane. The thirtieth of this month. 
Two hundred and fifty invitations.” 

“And to-day is the twenty-fifth,” stated Neill, 
more to himself than to the others, then went on: 
“We’ve five days in which to set our best traps. 
Now, I have an idea that it will be better to tell 
the reporters that we’ve nabbed the thieves and are 
on the trail of the stolen property, but that for 
good reasons we’re not yet ready to reveal the iden- 


76 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


titj of our prisoners. That will cause the private 
agencies to call off their men — and for a day or so 
we’ll call off all of our men, thus giving us a new 
and clear field for the Crane affair. And, besides, 
it will make the thieves bolder in their operations 
and our chances of a round-up a hundred per cent, 
better.” 

There was a knock on the door and the Police 
Secretary entered bearing a card which he handed 
to Neill. 

“ ‘George Edward Fleming. Bromidrosis Special- 
ist’,” Neill read aloud, then his expression becoming 
perplexed he inquired: “Who knows what bromi- 
drosis means 

There was a general shaking of heads in the nega- 
tive until Morgan, the Secretary, said, while reach- 
ing for the dictionary: 

“I’ll find out in a minute.” And presently he 
read : “ ‘Bromidrosis. Diseases of the skin. The 

odor of the cuticle. Excretive perspiration.’ ” 

There was a chorus of soft grunts and Neill in- 
structed in martyrdom tones: 

“Tell him to come in.” 

Morgan made his exit and a few seconds later 
ushered into the office a man of intelligent appear- 
ance, keen of eye, despite the pince-nez, powerful 
of build and of imposing bearing, and the three offi- 
cials noted with approbation the six feet of living 
flesh and bones and muscles, while Neill cordially 
invited : 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 77 


“Have a chair, Dr. Fleming.” 

Dr. Fleming ensconced himself easily in one of 
the many chairs placed in the office, after which 
with evident deliberation and carefulness, he placed 
his hat and gloves and walking stick on the table. 

“Now, Doctor, what can we do for you.^^” asked 
Neill, and explained: “We don’t often have a vis- 
itor who has not some kind of a complaint to reg- 
ister. I hope that yours is not a serious matter.” 

The physician smiled broadly, saying: “No com- 
plaint this time, gentlemen. I’m to be an exception, 
for my business here is of a different nature — it is to 
offer you my services, if you think them valuable, 
after you have heard in what capacity.” 

The three officials looked up quizzically and Neill, 
who acted as spokesman, requested: “In what con- 
nection, may I ask.'”’ His voice had lost much of 
its initial cordiality. 

Dr. Fleming, figuratively, did not beat about the 
bush, but said in the direct way habitual to him: 
“The recent jewel robberies. I don’t think I over- 
estimate my ability to say that I can catch the 
thieves for you.” 

The three officials were alert, although silent, while 
the expressions on each of the three faces under- 
went transitions from incredulity to serious 
thoughtfulness. Then, with his brows contracted in 
a deep frown, Neill said: 

“If you can catch those thieves or that thief, 
the Department is willing to part with twenty-five 


78 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


hundred dollars. Of course, I do not doubt bi;it 
that you have some definite information that will 
lead you to this capture and — ” 

“I have absolutely no information,” asserted 
Fleming with emphasis, then explained his interest: 
“You see I want to try an experiment, one which, 
if successful, will be in the future of invaluable as- 
sistance to the police in every civilized community. 
I do not wish you to misunderstand me to say that 
.my theory will be always applicable, yet in seventy- 
five per cent, of cases it will work to the best ad- 
vantage. Now, as to the remuneration, I shall take 
it and let it establish a fund for the promulgation 
of a College of Bromidrosis.” 

The three officials frowned in no uncertain man- 
ner, for none of them ever placed any faith in pseudo 
detectives, no matter what their social standing. 
However, Neill said: 

“I do not see that there is anything or anyone to 
prevent you from entering the game, yet I must 
tell you that you cannot expect any material aid 
from the Department. We cannot and will not give 
you any clue or any information that we have so 
far unearthed; nevertheless, I will promise you that 
we’ll work with you so far as we are able. Now, 
to show you our calibre, there is one secret that I 
shall impart to you. This afternoon the newspapers 
will publish stories to the effect that we have ap- 
prehended the thieves. That is not so. And the 
only persons who are aware that the thieves are still 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 79 


roaming at large are Inspector Knight, Jeffries, you 
and myself. Consequently, we expect you to keep 
this fact confidential. If your plans necessitate 
publicity, though, I shall order you to keep your 
hands off.” 

Dr. Fleming nodded and assured: “I certainly 
shall not betray your confidence; moreover, the less 
publicity in the matter, so far as I am concerned, 
the better. Further, as I am quite a student in 
criminology, your little coup with the newspapers 
will make the thieves, at their next escapade of pro- 
fessionally purloining the property of others, so 
lacking in caution as to be almost imprudent. Am 
I not correct in my deductions.?” 

“Absolutely, absolutely,” answered Neill, after 
which he fell into a protracted silence while the other 
two officials, to all intent, were considering Dr. Flem- 
ing’s entrance into the case. And this silence was 
broken only when Fleming said : 

“There is just one stipulation that I must insist 
upon before I take up the work and which I did 
not mention beforehand. In order to be successful 
I must work practically alone.” 

The three officials smiled blandly and with just a 
hint of amusement, while Jeffries demanded: 

“You mean that you want us to recall our men 
from the case.?” 

Dr. Fleming ignored the lack of seriousness that 
his stipulation had met and reiterated: “Yes — I 
must work practically alone, but I desire to have 


80 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


placed at my disposal one detective, the best man 
you have, subject to my orders. Any more would 
be a hindrance and only prolong the date of cap- 
ture.” 

“What do you think. Chief.?” asked Knight. 

“I can’t say olF-hand,” answered Neill, then turn- 
ing to Fleming he inquired: “I suppose. Doctor, 
that if we let you know some time to-morrow it 
would be agreeable?” 

' “It will have to be,” smiled Fleming, and added: 
“although the sooner I am at work on this case the 
better the chances for the success of my experiment. 
He arose and, shaking hands with the three men, 
took his departure. 

Immediately Fleming had quitted the room there 
was another official conference. 

“Jeffries, I think you had better look up this 
man’s record — Fleming’s,” suggested Knight. 

“So do I,” agreed Neill. “We can’t decide any- 
thing until we know that. He seems genuine enough 
to me, but it is better policy to know positively, be- 
cause never before have appearances been so de- 
ceptive as they are nowadays. And for all we know 
he may be a confederate of this clever bunch of dia- 
mond-eaters. That they are men of more than or- 
dinary mental ability is a certainty, and this may 
be but a method to temporarily stop our work on 
the case.” 

“I’m with you there, Chief,” voiced Jeffries, “be- 
cause the boldness of the request and its simplicity 


DR. FLEMING IS INTRODUCED 81 


should alone serve to put us on our guard. They 
know that we’d welcome aid, and as you say, this 
may only be a move to put us off their track.” 

“I don’t agree with either of you,” argued Knight, 
‘Tor the very boldness and simplicity of the doctor’s 
manner the thieves know would put us on our mettle. 
However, an investigation can do no harm.” 

The announcements in the afternoon papers of 
the capture of the jewel thieves made those members 
of the beau monde who had planned to attend the 
Crane affair sans the adornment of any jewelry, 
change their minds and replan to wear their 
treasures. 


CHAPTER IX 


FLEMING ACCEPTS AN OFFICE 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon of the thir^ 
tieth when a summons arrived from Neill to Dr. 
Fleming that the latter’s presence was desired at 
Police Headquarters. And when Fleming arrived 
Neill, Knight and Jeffries welcomed him. 

“Doctor Fleming,” began Neill, “having looked 
up your record since your last visit and on the 
strength of it we have decided to let you take charge 
of the jewel case on your own terms. I do not 
want you to feel — a — to be put out by the fact that 
we did look you up, and I shall tell you that we 
did so merely as a measure of necessary precaution 
in order to guard ourselves as well as the public. 
I trust you understand — and I do not doubt but 
that you do for, as a criminologist, you are aware 
that to-day there are so many species of dishonest 
men — call them burglars or thieves or get-rich-quick 
artists or whatever else you like — and that science 
has made such inroads into the possibilities of de- 
tecting a criminal that it is therefore as much as 
we can do to keep anywhere near a decent pace. 

82 


FLEMING ACCEPTS AN OFFICE 83 


But understand that I am not condemning science, 
nor belittling the standard of the police either, but 
I must say that we must keep humping along, study- 
ing day and n'ight the methods adopted by both the 
criminal and the law, not only to prevent crime, but 
to capture the wrong-doers as well. One of the 
greatest institutions in the country to-day is the 
Juvenile Court when it is properly conducted — it is 
of the greatest value to the police of the present and 
will make the work of the police in the future mere 
child’s play in comparison, for upon the Juvenile 
Court devolves the business of preventing the youth 
of our land from becoming hardened criminals. This 
is by weeding out the root — formerly we could merely 
cut down the poisoned tree after maturity.” He 
breathed a sigh of relief and prided himself upon 
this, as he thought, learned dissertation and the 
impression that undoubtedly he had made upon Flem- 
ing by such wordiness. 

Fleming had followed Neill’s discourse with seri- 
ous intentness, so it seemed, and he said: “I thank 
you, gentlemen, for your decision to allow me the 
opportunity to give my experiment such a thorough, 
practical test — and I can only say that I am quite 
sure you will thank me in the near future. And 
before we go any further, I want to say that I 
have been deeply impressed with Colonel Neill’s 
views, which I take to be the expression of those 
held by all police officials. Also, I agree with him 
upon the importance of the Juvenile Court in our 


84 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


social evolution but — well, I’ll be frank with you 
in saying that I do not agree with the other state- 
ments Colonel Neill made. And why.? Because the 
one great fault with you police, disagreeable as it 
may be for you to hear, is that you do not keep 
pace with science to near the extent that the real 
criminals do. Just recently I had a talk with Eric 
Harlow, the attorney whom you all know, and he 
stated that after seventeen years of study and ob- 
servations he has found there are very few dishonest 
people in the world, deducing his conclusions from 
the fact that he has gone into the human side of 
the question while you police merely gather the evi- 
dence from the surface. And Harlow contends in 
his summary that nine out of every ten persons 
who are convicted for dishonesty are the victims 
of circumstances over which they had not control. 
Of course, this diamond thief — or these thieves — 
are real criminals and never will be anything else, 
even though they live to pass the century mark. 
Thus we see that real criminals must be and are 
far more intelligent than the police, for the police 
cling to antiquated methods while the real criminal 
is ever alert for advancement. Now, Bertillion, who 
died recently, and whose system the police every- 
where use, was no doubt the greatest enemy the crim- 
inal ever had, but the decade of Bertillion is passed 
and criminals to-day can defeat that system with 
the utmost ease.” 


FLEMING ACCEPTS AN OFFICE 85 


‘‘The Doctor is right,” Jeffries asserted, “for it 
does not require any ingenuity to capture a low- 
brow criminal — and if the criminal world was com- 
posed of low-brows only, there would be no need 
for police, because the only requisite would be jails. 
Now, in my opinion there is — ” 

Jeffries was interrupted by Knight who reminded: 
“It’s getting late, Jeffries, so suppose we get down 
to business. Now, Doctor, any and all information 
that we have bearing on the cases is at your dis- 
posal. Also, you may select any man on the force 
as your aide.” 

“I shan’t need much information,” Fleming ex- 
plained, “but I do want the newest adjunct to the 
force — and the only use I shall have for him is at 
the time I make the arrest. One other thing. I 
read that the Thomas Cranes are giving an affair 
to-night and I suppose that you can arrange so that 
I may be in attendance.” 

There was a simultaneous affirmative nodding of 
three heads and Neill said: “That is a small de- 
tail. So I’ll have you sworn in as a special officer. 
It will take but a few minutes. And I think you 
will find Alex Mangold, the aide to meet your re- 
quirements.” 

And Fleming, having been duly sworn in as a 
special police officer, Neill turned to him with the 
information : 

“You are now ordered to take full and sole charge 


86 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


of the business of capturing the jewel thieves.” 

“My only hope is that I shall be successful,” said 
Fleming. 

“And our prayers are with you,” came a chorus 
of three in support. 


CHAPTER X 


AS IT WAS NOT INTENDED 

The crowning event of the social season was the 
Crane Ball and therefore society, dressed exquisitely 
and bedecked and aglitter with thousands of dollars’ 
worth of jewels, was in attendance en masse. 

Four men who wove their paths in and out and 
among this fashionable crush were surreptitiously 
alert. One of these men was Dr. George Edward 
Fleming, immaculate in full dress evening attire ; an- 
other was Alex Mangold, the doctor’s aide, equally 
as immaculate in proper togs, but not near so much 
at ease, although he did not, by act or word, evince 
his discomfort. The other two men were guests 
who, with critical eyes, appraised at long range or 
closely, as opportunity presented, the costly dia- 
monds of the feminine contingent, and calculated 
upon the market value of this necklace or that 
pendant; however, to the young men with diamond- 
imbedded cuff buttons and to the older ones who 
still clung to the diamond shirt stud, they gave but 
scant attention. 


87 


88 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


The evening was still young when Mrs. Crane, the 
hostess, advanced towards Fleming and sweetly pe- 
titioned: “Oh, Doctor Fleming, won’t you dance 
this fox trot with me?” 

Fleming bowed with all the gallantry of a Cheva- 
lier and answered: “Indeed, I shall certainly ap- 
preciate the honor, Mrs. Crane.” 

Mrs. Crane, as she leaned upon Fleming’s arm, 
whispered to him with her voice inflecting her sus- 
picions: “Doctor Fleming, I do not like the ap- 
pearance of that man over there,” indicating, with 
a nod of her head. Mangold. Then she continued 
in an apologetic tone: “Of course, you will pardon 
me for being so blunt but — ^but — ” 

“You need not worry about him,” Fleming as- 
sured the hostess. “He’s from Police. Headquarters 
as an aide to me.” 

“Then you expect trouble? I thought that the 
police had captured the thieves.” 

Fleming, thinking it better not to alarm the 
woman, answered somewhat ambiguously : “So they 
have, Mrs. Crane.” 

Here the music ceased and Fleming led Mrs. Crane 
to a chair and, after a few words of pleasantries 
had been exchanged, left her. However, later in the 
evening Mrs. Crane approached Fleming hurriedly, 
the very personiflcation of perturbation, and asked, 
a bit excitedly, it is true : 

“Are you quite positive, Doctor Fleming, that the 
society jewelry thieves have been captured?” 


AS IT WAS NOT INTENDED 


89 


Fleming scrutinized Mrs. Crane’s countenance for 
a moment or so, then realizing that there was some- 
thing amiss, but with only a latent interest, de- 
manded: “Why do you ask.? Has anything hap- 
pened to make you doubt 

The hostess hesitated, then haltingly answered: 
“Yes and no. Just now Mrs. Henry Allyn informed 
me that her diamond necklace which she values at 
twenty-five thousand dollars is missing — ^has disap- 
peared. And oh, it is so discomforting to have one 
lose one’s newels in my house. I do so hope she 
finds it.” 

Fleming was equal to the emergency and he re- 
quested : “Will you please present me to Mrs. 
Allyn Perhaps we can find the missing article 
without anyone being a bit the wiser.” 

Mrs. Crane complied with the request by calling 
to a beautiful young matron who was near at hand: 
“Oh, I say, Bertha Allyn, come over here, will you 
please And when Mrs. Allyn had crossed the in- 
tervening space she said : “I want you to meet Doc- 
tor Fleming. He may be able to help you.” 

Waltz music sounded and Fleming and Mrs. Allyn 
joined the rhythmical current while Fleming said: 

“Mrs. Crane has just confided to me that you have 
lost your necklace.” Then dropping his voice to 
a mere whisper he continued: “I shall confide to 
you that I am connected with the Police Department 
as an experimental expert, so, if it has been stolen 
or lost, it is I who will be the one to restore it to you. 


90 O’CONNER’S CAREER 

Now, how long ago has it been since you missed 
it?” 

“Not more than fifteen minutes,” answered the 
matron, almost on the verge of tears because of her 
loss. 

“I suppose that you have danced considerable 
this evening?” Fleming next asked. 

“Yes indeed — in fact, I have not missed one num- 
ber.” 

“And can you recall who were your partners?” 

“Why certainly — ^very easily. They were Mrs. 
Crane’s son, Mr. Crane, Mr. Burkhart, and Mr. 
Wilkshire, that exceptional Englishman.” 

“And after whose dance did you miss your neck- 
lace.?” 

“Mr. Burkhart’s.” 

Fleming had paid but little visual attention to 
Mrs. Allyn during his catechism, for his eyes had 
been roving here and there fleetingly, but now he 
gave his dancing partner his entire attention as he 
asked: “Can you recall any distinguishing feature 
about any of your dancing partners? I suppose 
that you have been acquainted with all of them for 
years.” 

“No, I wouldn’t say all of them, for Mr. Wilk- 
shire has just been in this country about four months 
and Mr. Burkhart, who is traveling with him, is from 
Montreal. You know Mr. Wilkshire is a special 
envoy of some sort for the British Government — I 
think his mission has something to do with the British 


AS IT WAS NOT INTENDED 


91 


subjects in Mexico. He met young Crane at the 
Athletic Club and so was taken up immediately by 
our Four Hundred.” 

‘T think I met Mr. Wilkshire earlier in the even- 
ing.” 

“Oh, did you.P And did you notice that charm- 
ing odor of violets when in his proximity.?” 

“I think I did.” 

“Well, we have endeavored to have him tell us 
what make powder or sachet or toilet water it is, 
because it is so distinctly different from any that 
we have known. But perhaps you are like the bal- 
ance of the men and do not know that this season 
violets are taboo. Yet if we could have an odor 
similar to Mr. Wilkshire’s we would revive it in- 
stantly. Perhaps you have not noticed either that 
there is not a woman here to-night who has the least 
hint of violets about her. But Mr. Wilkshire is 
horrid because he simply won’t tell anyone.” And 
Mrs. Allyn ended with a little moue. 

Fleming now guided the way to one side of the 
room, very close to his aide, and ordered quietly, 
yet tersely: “The main door!” 

Mangold understood and unobtrusively, yet has- 
tily, gained the position just as the music ceased. 

Fleming next brought up alongside of Wilkshire, 
whom he tapped upon the arm and requested : “Oh, 
Mr. Wilkshire, I’d like a word with you.” 

Wilkshire turned slowly to face Fleming, then with 
comet speed movements he took from his pocket a 


92 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


revolver, with which weapon he instantly covered 
the room and at the same time, in a voice raised 
to a pitch that carried to the four corners he said: 

“The first man to move — or woman — gets a bul- 
let!” His accent was decidedly un-English. 

Fleming, by the unexpected turn of affairs and, 
although he had an automatic revolver in his hip 
pocket, being too much of a novice when actually 
confronted with the real situation, was stumped as 
to how to act to the best advantage, so he, with 
the other men in the room, held his hands in the 
air obediently. Nevertheless, there were two men 
in that room who did not obey Wilkshire’s command : 
one at the first hint of trouble had ducked behind a 
nest of ferns which was doing duty as a decoration: 
the other. Mangold, dropped quickly to the floor 
and silently crawled to within five feet of Fleming, 
unobserved by Wilkshire and, even before the latter 
realized what was happening, there was a sudden 
reversal of form, and Wilkshire was covered by 
Mangold’s revolver. 

“Throw that gun on the floor!” thundered Man- 
gold. 

Wilkshire started to do the bidding, but had just 
time enough to relax his arm when a command from 
the other side of the room immediately caused every- 
one to raise arms again perpendicular. The new 
command came from Burkhart, who warned: 

“The first person who moves takes his life into 
the path of a bullet!” Then to Wilkshire he in- 


AS IT WAS NOT INTENDED 


93 


structed: “Grab that gum-shoe’s gun as I advance. 
I’ve got to keep these mollycoddles in line — merely 
for precaution.” 

Wilkshire, with the gun of Mangold in one hand 
and his own weapon in the other, slowly backed to- 
wards the door while Burkhart made a detour of 
the assemblage to join him, then when the two met 
they retreated swiftly from view. 

“We better not try to make a run for it,” whis- 
pered Burkhart as he and Wilkshire noiselessly ran 
along the hall. “Can’t never tell how many crack- 
ers a bunch like that carries.” 

“Right-o. No chance to make a get-away for 
hours,” panted Wilkshire. “And believe me that 
find of mine will stand us mighty handy now.” 

“Who knows about it.?” 

“No one. It’s in the old part of the house — 
this part has been built only recently.” 

“Do you know the exact spot?” inquired Burk- 
hart, a bit anxiously, it is true. 

Wilkshire did not reply, but suddenly halted and, 
going over to the right wall, fumbled about the 
wainscoting, the while he imparted to his comrade: 
“This place must have been built in the pioneer days 
and was evidently used by the original owners as a 
hiding place from the Indians.” 

There was a muffled, clicking sound from the ball- 
room and just as a few of the braver men were heard 
coming down the hall, which Wilkshire had had sense 
enough to plunge into stygian darkness, he slid a 


94 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


panel and, drawing Burkhart through the small 
aperture after him, quickly yet without any noise 
whatsoever, shoved the panel closed again. Inside 
there was sufficient room for at least fifteen people 
to stand upright. Air was supplied through a small 
opening in a brick wall that was not larger than a 
five-cent piece. Now there was not one ray of light 
therein. 

- From this hiding place the two men could hear 
the commotion in the hallway, windows and doors 
being banged open near and far. But above this 
there sounded the music of the orchestra in the ball- 
room. Then, from just outside the panel: 

“Doctor, they’ve made good their get-away.” By 
this the two men knew that Dr. Fleming was on the 
case, although in what connection puzzled them. 

“Perhaps — this time, but it will be their last job 
in these precincts.” 

The two men in the alcove smiled, for to hear 
themselves discussed in such confident tones and to 
hear such a boast, appealed strongly to their sense 
of humor. 

“Don’t you think that I better call up Headquar- 
ters to put them wise.?” inquired the first voice, thus 
giving the two men the knowledge that the owner 
was Mangold. 

“No, I do not want any help. Headquarters 
would only bungle things for me,” said Fleming; 
then in more severe tones: “As I understand, you 
are under my orders.” 


AS IT WAS NOT INTENDED 


95 


“Absolutely, Doctor, absolutely.” 

After that the hidees in the alcove individually 
surmised that Fleming and Mangold were moving 
away, for their words became indistinguishable and 
finally the sounds of their voices were no longer 
audible. Yet even so, they dared not move. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE BOOMERANG AND BROMIDROSIS 

George Edward Fleming, Bromidrosis Special- 
ist, was phenomenally shrewd. Thus, while Wilk- 
shire, figuratively, had held up the ball-room at the 
point of his revolver, the doctor had not been idle, 
for his supersensitive nostrils had been strongly as- 
sailed by a violet odor, distinguishable because of 
the presence of just the slightest taint of a sul- 
phuric excretion that was a part of it. That alone 
had told him that the odor was natural and not, as 
the debutantes and matrons had supposed, sachet or 
cologne or powder. Therefore, he foresaw that his 
experiment would prove successful, not only in the- 
ory, but materially. To him Wilkshire was forever 
a branded individual. 

Fleming had traced the odor to the panel, and 
although at that particular spot the odor remained, 
only an occasional whiff or two, Wilkshire had dis- 
appeared. But Fleming was sufficiently conversant 
with the medical subject of bromidrosis to know that 
only in the proximity of the individual so blessed or 
afflicted, whichever the case proved to be, could the 
96 


TIJE BOOMERANG 


97 


odor be detected; it never lingered. Therefore, he 
was positive that the Englishman was nearer than 
the others imagined. 

As he walked away from the particular spot with 
Mangold, the particular odor of violets had been 
lost. Then and then only did he know that he would 
not be overheard. So, about fifty feet farther along 
he halted and, turning to his aide said: “Mangold, 
those two men are still in this house hiding. They 
haven’t been able to escape yet. Now, I want you 
to go to the ball-room and ascertain how many of 
the men are armed and tell those that have revolvers 
to be ready if they are needed. Also, while you are 
there call up Jeffries — there’s a telephone right be- 
side the orchestra platform — and tell him that I 
think we’ll need about thirty men up here ; he’s wait- 
ing in his office to hear from me. Tell him that it 
will be better to keep his men under cover. Now, 
as soon as you have attended to that, return to me 
here. Have you another revolver?” 

“I always carry two guns for just such emer- 
gencies,” answered the aide, then added: “I wish 
I could have made a target of Wilkshire — I’d have 
got a clear field if there’d not been so many in the 
way. I’m not new to the police business — I used 
to be a detective on the Philadelphia force, but my 
health went bad and the doctors ordered me out 
here — got me this job about a month ago.” With 
which he moved swiftly along the hall to the ball- 
room to carry out instructions. 


98 . 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


In five minutes Mangold rejoined Fleming and 
imparted: “Jeffries said he’d be here in less than 
ten minutes.” 

“Good !” exclaimed the physician, and immediately 
retraced his steps with Mangold following almost 
upon his heels. Fleming sniffed continuously, walk- 
ing at a snail’s pace, until he had traversed nearly 
fifty feet, then abruptly, that is as abruptly as such 
a case warrants, halted. For a moment or so he 
stood irresolute, then, putting his finger to his lips 
to caution his aide to be silent, he wrote on a piece 
of paper: 

“Remain here until I give the signal to move. 
And keep your eyes open. Better stand away 
from the wall. The men are near here. I’m 
going to the ball-room for a few minutes.” 

A scant ten minutes later Jeffries entered the ball- 
room and immediately made his way to Fleming. 
“What’s wrong. Doctor he inquired. 

“A diamond necklace has been stolen from one of 
the guests. The thieves are still here — and I 
wouldn’t stake one hair of my head on their chances 
to escape. They have disappeared, but they haven’t 
gone far — in fact, not out of this house.” 

Jeffries scowled darkly, saying: “And they 
won’t get away then, for I’ve got the house and 
grounds alive with my men — no one can leave with- 
out detection.” 

“That’s fine,” Fleming complimented the sagacity 
of Jeffries’ forethought, then informed him: “I’m 


THE BOOMERANG 


99 


going to make an announcement now.” And, ad- 
dressing a few words to the leader of the orchestra, 
he mounted the platform as the music ceased in 
the middle of a bar and, seeing that this had the 
desired effect of causing every pair of eyes to turn 
toward him, he raised his hand and said in loud 
tones: “Ladies and gentlemen, you all know now 
that there has been a theft here to-night. But what 
you don’t know is that the thieves are still in this 
house. No, there is no danger as long as no one 
attempts to leave this room, for the house and the 
grounds everywhere have been taken charge of by 
the police. There is going to be a search made for 
the guilty men, so I would advise no one to leave 
this room until the word is given. It may take only 
a few minutes and again it may take two or more 
hours to effect a capture. Therefore, any who care 
to leave now will have to submit to being searched 
by Sergeant of Detectives Jeffries.” 

Fleming waited a minute or so, then as no one 
made a move he nodded to the orchestra leader who 
struck his baton upon the music stand and, the mu- 
sicians responding, the dancing, in more or less of 
a half-hearted fashion, was resumed. 

As Fleming and Jeffries were moving towards the 
door, the former requested: “I should like very 
much to have full sway in this search because you 
see I — ” 

“But — ” Jeffries interrupted to expostulate. 

Fleming, however, anticipated him by reminding: . 


100 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“I think it was agreed that I was to be in full charge 
and I see no reason why I should not exercise my au- 
thority and my rights.” 

“Certainly, certainly, Doctor. All that concerns 
us is that you capture the thieves.” 

Fleming now began to give instructions. “In 
the first place,” he said, “I want absolute silence — 
that is my first requisite. Second, I want four men 
with drawn revolvers in each hand to be placed and 
kept at intervals along the wall where Mangold is 
stationed. The other men you may place where 
you deem best. And now I shall take you to within 
fifteen feet of the thieves.” 

Mangold saluted the two men in silence as they 
approached and immediately Fleming, with his nose 
close to the wall, sniffed silently, moving only about 
six feet while Jeffries and the aide watched him in 
amusement and not a little wonderment. Then they 
saw him point. 

The four men arrived by this time and were dele- 
gated to their stations as Fleming desired, while 
he again turned his attention to the wall, this time 
to commence, rather stealthily, to run his hand 
lightly up and down and across the wainscoting, not 
making the slightest sound in his movements. And, 
a short time later, the men watching him noted a 
pleased smile cross his countenance and without re- 
moving his hand from the spot where it rested, with- 
out changing his position the fraction of an inch, 
he beckoned, with his free hand, for the men to 


THE BOOMERANG 


101 


gather in, one on each side of him. This accom- 
plished, he then for the first time made a sound; 
his hand pressed inwardly and something clicked, 
but ere he could make another move a bullet came 
from behind the wall, whizzed by his head, miracu- 
lously missed it and flattened itself against the op- 
posite wall. In the near wall a hole was visible. 
This was the signal for concerted action. 

The detectives, as if they had been bowled over 
by a mighty blast, were flat on their stomachs, and 
so was Fleming, having been pulled down by 
the aide who had been standing directly behind 
him. 

Jeffries now took command and dispatched a man 
to hold the ball-room door closed while he ordered: 
“One shot !” 

Instantly one shot banged through the wall di- 
rectly above Flemihg’s head. Nor had the sound 
died away than from behind the wall came four bul- 
lets in rapid succession. 

“One more shot!” ordered Jeffries again. 

There was another shot sent crashing into the 
wall which was answered by a series of bullets, all 
of which went over the recumbent men. 

“They haven’t many more bullets left,” Jeffries 
whispered to Fleming as he again ordered his men 
to shoot once. 

There was no answering bullet, which gave Jeffries 
the information he sought. He arose to his feet and 
the others followed suit. 


102 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Fleming was at the wall again: he touched some- 
thing: there was a click: he slid a panel open. 

“Come out of there before I count ten or be shot 
to death like rats in a trap,” called Jeffries, and 
slowly began counting: “One, two, three, four, five, 
six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” But no one emerged, 
so, waiting only to draw a deep breath he com- 
manded: “Three shots apiece, boys — at the open- 
ing!” 

Simultaneously five shots rang hollowly into the 
aperture, followed quickly by ten more. It was a 
certainty that anyone hiding therein could not es- 
cape being hit by at least one of the bullets, even 
though they, as the detectives had done, lay flat upon 
the floor, because more than one shot had been aimed 
at the ground. 

The smoke had not yet cleared away when Jeffries 
and Mangold, with the aid of electric flash-lamps, 
surveyed as much of the place as possible ; then, sat- 
isfied that there was no danger. Mangold stuck his 
head inside and peered about for a more thorough 
inspection. And a minute later he entered the late 
hiding place of Wilkshire and Burkhart where he 
was immediately joined by Jeffries. 

The interior, back and sides, was of brick as was 
also the flooring: the inside walls and the ceiling 
however were of solid wood. Escape seemed im- 
possible yet strangely perplexing and a bit shocking, 
it is true, to the three men — Fleming having forth- 
with joined Jeffries and Mangold — who expected to 


THE BOOMERANG 


103 


find one or two wounded or dead men, there was not 
a sign of a human being. 

The fresh air, rushing in through the opening, 
dispelled the smell of burned powder in less than no 
time and so Fleming again immediately put to test 
his now proven practical experiment. He sniffed 
incessantly. 

“The birds have flown,” almost snarled Jeffries, 
disgusted with himself and everybody else as well. 

Fleming paid no attention to him, for he was busy 
running his hand over the ceiling, which was about 
a foot above his head. It was evident that he was 
searching for something and presently he found 
what he wanted, for there was a click and Jeffries 
saw him slide back part of the ceiling, this action 
revealing a small overhead recess or cupboard. And 
Jeffries looked up with surprise to see, inside, two 
figures crouching in the corner. 

For Wilkshire and Burkhart the game was up. 

“Come on, you two !” thundered Jeffries. “I think 
an automobile spin will be good for your constitu- 
tions.” 

Obediently the two men descended. And a thor- 
ough search revealed that Jeffries’ surmise had been 
correct: their revolvers were empty. 

While Jeffries and a vanguard marched the two 
prisoners to the waiting police auto-patrol, Fleming 
went to the door of the ball-room and opened it. 
The men and women guests were crouched there, 
their faces ashen, their bodies trembling, and al- 


104 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


though they had wanted to get in touch with the 
progress of the search, they were too thoroughly 
frightened to open the door. 

Fleming sought Mrs. Allyn. “Your necklace has 
been recovered,” was the glad news he imparted to 
her. Then went on to explain: “The police will re- 
turn it to you in a few days — they are retaining it 
as a silent but material witness. And you may say 
to the others of your set who have been the victims 
of these men that the chances are most favorable 
for the return of their valuables.” 


CHAPTER XII 


MISS SIMPSON LOSES HER CASE 

The Municipal Court room, that is, the Criminal 
Division, was crowded the next morning when Burk- 
hart and Wilkshire were arraigned on the charge 
of robbery. 

Mrs. AUyn, who had just stepped from the wit- 
ness stand after having identified her necklace, 
had no sooner left the room than Wilkshire was 
seen to make a sudden move toward his head and 
then — 

There was a chorus of astounded exclamations 
from the police, for where a moment before had stood 
the Englishman, Wilkshire, there was now James 
O’Conner, alias Con, black hair disheveled, while in 
his hand he held a yellow wig. And by his side, now 
undisguised, too, stood Bud Hicks. The sarcastic 
smile which played about O’Conner’s mouth relaxed 
and, raising his hand as a signal that he wished to 
speak, silence fell over the others. Said he: 

“Your Honor and the Police, I wish to congratu- 
late Doctor Fleming here, and so ought you, be- 
105 


106 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


cause had it not been for him you would never have 
caught us.” 

As O’Conner was taken to his cell, Odette Simp- 
son stepped up to Neill to remind him of his promise 
and Neill, nodding his head affirmatively, said: 

“Miss Simpson, you may see your man to-morrow 
morning and as often after that as you desire.” 

“Thank you — and I hope that this will be his last 
offense,” said Odette, wherewith she took her de- 
parture. 

That afternoon the newspapers gave unstinted 
space to the recent jewel robberies and to the cap- 
ture of the thieves, which, summed up, read: 

“The many recent jewel robberies which have har- 
rassed the police for the past few weeks because of 
the cleverness of the thieves and their ability to 
ward off capture had a dramatic finish last night 
and this morning. . . . 

“To Dr. George Edward Fleming of this city is 
due a vote of thanks by the citizens. It was through 
the aid of Advanced Medical Science that the cap- 
ture was possible. Dr. Fleming’s method of appre- 
hending criminals is a new innovation and of the 
greatest aid to the police since the adoption of the 
Bertillion System. Interviewed, Dr. Fleming said: 
‘It is easy to detect the presence of a known crim- 
inal by the Bromidrosis Method. However, in order 
to be successful, one must have a smattering knowl- 
edge of the medical subject of the skin. I have 
been a student of the human cuticle and its peculiari- 


MISS SIMPSON LOSES HER CASE 107 


ties for years. My highly developed sense of smell 
I trace to my Indian ancestors. Now, every person 
has an individual skin odor with the single excep- 
tion of the Japs, who have no cuticle odors whatso- 
ever. Therefore, the police will have to employ certi- 
fied graduates of the School of Bromidrosis in order 
that the employment of my method may he effective. 
I can, without having seen or touched a person, de- 
tect the sex, comparative age and the state of health 
of that individual, simply through the odor of the 
cuticle. This man O’Conner has an odor that is 
extremely rare; in fact, only one other person is 
known to have possessed it, and that was Alexander 
the Great — it is the odor of violets. There is no 
doubt in my mind that were we to trace O’Conner’s 
ancestry we should find that he is a descendant of 
that General.’ 

“Dr. Fleming, when asked whether bloodhounds 
were not the instigators of the idea, answered : 
‘Bloodhounds have absolutely no sense of cuticle 
odors, but track solely by the odor of the blood.’ 

“At noon to-day a special meeting of council was 
held and Dr. Fleming was petitioned to accept the 
office, newly created, of Commissioner of Detectives 
at a salary of ten thousand dollars per annum. Dr. 
Fleming immediately accepted.” 

Early the next morning Odette Simpson presented 
herself at Neill’s office. He had not yet arrived 
nor had he left any orders to the effect that O’Con- 


108 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


ner could have visitors, so she was forced to wait. 

When Neill came in he greeted her with; “So I 
see you’re bound to hold me to my promise.” 

Odette smiled and said: “Only by persistence 
can we accomplish our ends.” 

“Well,” yielded Neill, seeing there was no way 
out of it, “you wait here and I’ll bring O’Conner 
to you. It’s much better to have your little heart- 
to-heart talk in a nice, big, airy, sunny room like 
this than downstairs where there is no sun and where 
everything spells gloom.” And so, ringing for his 
secretary, he ordered that O’Conner be hailed up- 
stairs. 

O’Conner entered the room a few minutes later 
in charge of one of the station house-keepers and 
his expression denoted moroseness until he caught 
sight of Odette, then there was a swift transition to 
happiness, yet this only lasted momentarily, for 
again he was cast into gloom. 

Said Neill; “O’Conner, you know we’ve changed 
the charge to grand larceny and that you have been 
remanded to the Grand Jury without bail, so that 
I thought while you were awaiting trial we’d give 
you a little free entertainment. Do you care to 
talk to Miss Simpson 

“If she cares to talk to me I will,” answered O’Con- 
ner.” 

“You seem to know her,” observed Neill. 

“Yes, I do — and I’ll never forget her because — 
well, just because.” 


MISS SIMPSON LOSES HER CASE 109 


“Very well, I’ll let you two talk alone, but re- 
member, O’Conner, that you’re on probation and no 
rough stuff goes as long as you are talking to 
her.” 

“That is the last thing I would do in her pres- 
ence,” asserted O’Conner with such sincerity that 
Neill was forced to believe him. 

“Mr. O’Conner, why do you persist in taking 
things to which you have no legal right.?” were 
Odette’s first words after Neill had quitted the room. 

O’Conner looked at the girl shamefacedly and, 
with a little nervous twitch to his mouth, answered: 
“I guess it’s because I simply can’t help it — ^just 
the same as you can’t help being so good.” 

“You mean to say that it’s the same motive.?” 

“Well, it is the same and yet it’s different; but I 
guess both conditions are due to associations.” 

“But can’t you stop it.? Haven’t you ever tried.?” 

“Oh, yes, I’ve tried, but — ” 

“How hard have you tried?” 

“As hard as any man could ask of me.” 

“And why didn’t you stick to it.?” 

“Why didn’t I? Well, principally, if I had I’d 
have starved to death and I didn’t fancy doing 
that.” 

Odette shook her head and put her argument in 
the form of the question : “Well, how about all the 
other men who don’t steal? Do they starve?” 

“No — not many of them, but then you. see they 
haven’t been crooks all their lives and I have and 


110 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


that’s one difference. And another one is that mj 
constitution isn’t the same as theirs, and still an- 
other is that my raising wasn’t what it should have 
been.” 

“You mean to say you have been brought up to 
be a crook?” inquired Odette, her voice the very 
essence of incredulity. 

“Oh, no, not that. My mother was a gentle- 
woman and my father was an Army man, but they 
both died when I was a mere youngster and some- 
how or other, as there was no money left, I was 
thrown on the world to shift for myself as best I 
could.” 

“But weren’t there any relatives?” 

O’Conner shook his head negatively. 

“That was too bad,” sympathized Odette. 

“Yes, it was He — I beg your pardon, it was 
rather tough for a youngster like myself. And ever 
since then I have always pitied every poor little 
shaver who has to get out and hustle.” 

“But there are plenty of homes for dependent 
children.” 

“So there are, but I’d rather be dead than be in 
some home living on charity — and I guess the ma- 
jority of little kids would too. Life is not what 
it’s cracked up to be. Miss Simpson.” 

“No — ^you are right. Life isn’t what it ought to 
be, yet as we must live, we might as well make the 
best and the most of it and ourselves.” 

“That’s what I think.” 


MISS SIMPSON LOSES HER CASE 111 


“But you’re not living up to it — to the best that 
is in you.” 

“Indeed I am — I’m doing the best I know how.” 

“Do you call it the best by stealing other people’s 
property.? Do you call that honorable? Or praise- 
worthy ?” 

“Oh, in its way it’s honorable — as honorable as 
any commercial king cornering any commodity of 
life while people are kicking about the high cost of 
living and he getting rich while the poor devils of 
stockholders are facing ruin. It’s just the name 
they give things that makes them right or wrong, 
that’s all.” 

“But don’t you know that God knows and sees 
everything we do and that he sent our Lord Jesus 
Christ to earth to make better souls of us and that 
He died so that we might be better and live better 
lives? And don’t you know that every wrong act 
of yours is recorded against you, making the chances 
for your entrance to Heaven so much less?” 

“That’s what preachers say, but is it really so?” 

“Don’t you believe in God?” 

“To tell you the truth. Miss Simpson, I’ve never 
given it much thought.” 

“And haven’t you ever attended devotional serv- 
ices ?” 

O’Conner shook his head with hang-dog effect and 
admitted: “No, I’ve never had the time.” 

“But haven’t you ever been taught about God 
and Jesus Christ and the reward of virtue?” 


112 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“I guess I haven’t. You see my learning has con- 
sisted of real life and of how to get the best out of 
it — or as you would put it, how to get the most out 
of the other fellow.” 

“But wouldn’t you reform if you could.?” 

“Would I.? Well, honestly now, no I wouldn’t. 
Why.? Well, because I tried it once and it wasn’t 
worth a straw.” 

Odette changed her tactics again and queried: 
“You loved your mother, didn’t you, and respected 
and honored your father.?” 

“I suppose I would have had they lived — and I 
suppose I would have been a different man to-day, 
but, as I said before, I was too young when they 
died, and that’s why it’s a different story.” 

“But don’t you know that they know everything 
you do .?” 

“Do they — really?” 

“They most assuredly do.” 

“And you really believe it.?” 

Odette nodded her head in the affirmative. 

“Well, I don’t.” 

“Oh, but you must, because it is so. Your mother 
knows your life here and so does your father, and 
it causes them great sorrow. So if not for your 
own sake, you should reform for theirs.” 

O’Conner arose saying: “It’s no use. Miss Simp- 
son, I can’t reform — and you could talk from now 
until Doomsday and it wouldn’t change me. Fate 
has booked me to be a thief and a thief I’ve got to 


MISS SIMPSON LOSES HER CASE 113 


be — and as long as it’s got to be so, I’ve made up 
my mind to be the best thief who ever lived.” 

Neill now entered and Odette directed toward 
O’Conner the query: “May I come and see you 
again.?” 

Answered O’Conner: “Suit yourself, but I warn 
you now that you’ll only be wasting your time and 
energy.” 

“We’ll see,” said Odette, her voice tinged with 
sadness, but not denoting lack of hope. 

And this ended Odette’s first effort to reform 
James O’Conner. Would it be her last.? 

Two weeks later James O’Conner and Bud Hicks, 
having been found guilty of many thefts, were sen- 
tenced to from three to fifteen years in the peniten- 
tiary. It had been expected. 


CHAPTER XIII 


HAGEN AND WARREN 

The advent of a new guard at a penitentiary is 
an event only because it is a break in the monotony 
of convict life. Yet the presence of a new guard 
at the penitentiary where Jackson Miller was War- 
den and where James O’Conner, convict-clerk in 
the Commissary Department was serving out a penal 
sentence was much more — it was an Occasion. 

Both O’Conner and Bud Hicks caught sight of 
the new guard that night as they were eating supper 
and as a consequence O’Conner’s otherwise splendid 
digestion, when he became aware that the guard in 
question was on duty on the tier where was located 
his cell and that of Bud Hicks, was not up to stand- 
ard ; the food in his stomach seemed de trop. 

The new guard was known to O’Conner and to 
Hicks and was none other than Salim Hagan, known 
among the cult as the slickest pickpocket in the pro- 
fession, and because of this, coupled with some 
strange decree of Fate, unknown to the police. 
From which may be gathered that Hagan had never 
suffered confinement in any kind of a jail. 

114 


HAGEN AND WARREN 


115 


Under ordinary circumstances the presence of 
Hagan would have caused O’Conner unalloyed joy, 
but the fact remained that he and Hagan were not 
on the best of terms, the estrangement having re- 
sulted from a quasi-excitable tiff over an inconse- 
quential matter, yet which occurrence neither had 
forgotten nor forgiven. For both realized that it 
is ever the trivial matter, whatever its phase, which 
accounts for the serious. Therefore, Hagan in civ- 
ilian clothes did not cause O’Conner to give him a 
second thought, but Hagan in the blue uniform of 
a penitentiary guard was a far different considera- 
tion and responsible for no little amount of worry 
on the parts of both O’Conner and Hicks. 

The matter was a grave problem which must be 
solved as quickly as possible. Had Hagan re- 
formed.^ And if so what was he doing in his present 
position Again, if he had not mended his ways, 
why was he at the penitentiary, a free men.? So, 
just before going to sleep O’Conner resolved that 
at the earliest possible moment he would confide to 
Hicks his distrust of Hagan. 

With the morning came another resolve, and now 
as he hummed almost inaudibly under his breath as 
he went about his labors in the Commissary De- 
partment, opening the tightly nailed boxes and 
crates which contained the food supply for the in- 
stitution, his mind was not at all perturbed. O’Con- 
ner would have sung louder — and his voice was not 
unmusical at that — ^he even would have whistled 


116 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


somewhat gajly had not prison rules in generations 
gone bj and which rules still prevailed, put whistling 
and singing on the taboo list. 

Suddenly O’Conner ceased to hum, glanced about 
him surreptitiously and at the only other man in the 
room, an individual who, like himself, was serving a 
penal sentence and who, at present, was in a far 
corner removing the goods from the boxes and 
crates — all canned stuffs, vegetables known as sec- 
onds — and placing them on the shelves in symmet- 
rical order. Then satisfied that he was not being 
observed, he commenced to hum again while he bent 
low over a box which he had just opened. 

O’Conner had made a discovery and with it, si- 
multaneously, there had been born an idea, the hap- 
piest in the fourteen months of his imprisonment. 

How O’Conner had come to be made a clerk in 
the Commissary Department was interesting. He 
never grouched, never complained, never became un- 
ruly, and thus was soon in the good graces of all 
the prison officials. On one occasion several of the 
prisoners had attempted to rush the guards, but 
O’Conner, seeing that their efforts would be futile, 
had assisted to restore order. Then, at another 
time, there was danger of a prison wail, that most 
officially dreaded of all prison sounds, but O’Conner 
and Hicks, perceiving that no good would come of 
it, had promptly choked the ring-leaders into silence 
and unconsciousness and had thus cowed the others. 
So, the guards, appreciating this service, had re- 


HAGEN AND WARREN 


117 


ported to Warden Miller, and as a consequence 
O’Conner had been promoted to his present clerk- 
ship and Hicks had been made a stock-keeper in the 
overall factory. And, thereafter, life for these two 
men had been more tolerable, although not satisfac- 
tory. However, the two decided that until some- 
thing extraordinary transpired it was best to leave 
well enough alone and better to live in comparative 
comfort than by any miscue on their part incur the 
enmity of the guards or the Warden. 

That they meant to escape was a certainty. But 
the ordinary methods, they realized, such as sawing 
their cell bars or digging tunnels or the hundred 
and one other tricks that are absolutely useless and 
prove as valuable as money is to a man on an un- 
inhabited island, they realized would avail them no 
liberty. 

In short. Con and Bud accepted their imprison- 
ment philosophically and bided their time, even 
though it proved to be heartbreakingly irksome. 

But now, with O’Conner’s discovery, the prospect 
underwent a complete metamorphosis. 

“Sss !” sounded from O’Conner in no more audible 
tone than had been his humming. 

The other man glanced over towards O’Conner, 
then looked about the room, after which he moved 
quickly yet silently over to his co-worker’s side. 

O’Conner pointed to a box he had just opened. 
Unlike the others there was an inner covering of 
excelsior. 


118 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“What is it?” whispered the other man, Chuck 
Warren, who had been sent up from the Southern 
part of the Stg^te. 

In lieu of answer O’Conner removed the excelsior 
covering, disclosing to view a phonograph and sev- 
eral cylinders, and wedged in between these was an 
.envelope. 

“What good?” Warren whispered. 

O’Conner scarcely breathed at the effort, figura- 
tively, as he said, under his tongue, the one word: 
“Escape.” 

Warren’s habitual expression of gloom altered for 
perhaps a minute and a smile, such as one would 
never have imagined such a combination of features 
could possibly produce so full of good nature was 
it, swept over and lighted his countenance, but as 
quickly and as astonishingly as it had appeared, it 
faded, and he inquired nervously: “Am I in on 
it?” 

O’Conner nodded affirmatively. 

Thereupon Warren returned to his duties in the 
corner satisfied, for he knew O’Conner and his type 
and was aware that when a word was given it was 
kept. 

The room used as the Commissary Department 
was seldom entered by any of the prison officials, so 
O’Conner had the opportunity to nail shut the box 
with the phonograph, after he had extracted the 
envelope therefrom. He did not deem it wise to at- 


HAGEN AND WARREN 


119 


tempt to ascertain what the envelope contained, just 
then, so he deftly hid it in his sock to read it in the 
seclusion of his cell that night. There now con- 
fronted him the problem of how to keep the box out 
of the way for a sufficient length of time to enable 
him to hit upon a consistent plan for using the 
phonograph to the best advantage, and until such 
a time as he could apprise Bud of the trend of affairs. 

O’Conner looked around, but could see no corner 
nor other safe place where the box could be held 
without being detected sooner or later. But Fate 
seemed to favor him, for when he was almost finished 
with the last box and when it seemed to him that 
after all the hope of escape would prove to be but 
a mirage, another shipment of food arrived and 
thus he was enabled to hide the particlular box until 
at least late the following afternoon. This he did. 

That night O’Conner took off his shoes with the 
utmost care and stretched himself on his cot, cover- 
ing his entire body with the bed clothes, then cau- 
tiously he reached down to his sock for the envelope 
when, like a shock, his hand came in contact with 
something that felt like a small piece of folded paper. 
This was not in his sock. However, being far too 
wise and too well schooled in prison life, he gave 
no visible heed of his discovery, for, as yet, he had 
not solved the question of the meaning of Hagan’s 
presence as a guard. So he decided that whatever 
it was, he would discover later in the night, and 


120 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


therefore, he lay, for a long, long while, fretting and 
fuming inwardly and planning and worrying not a 
little bit. 

The next consciousness of O’Conner was when he 
awakened to hear the clock just outside the prison 
walls chime the hour of four. It was still dark. 
For some few minutes he lay absolutely motionless, 
waiting for some slight noise, for some movement 
to tell him that it would not be wise to investigate 
the contents of the envelope that he had purloined 
from the box that day and also to discover what 
the other object was. Then, being satisfied that 
there was not the slightest sound, he stealthily pulled 
from the depths of the bed clothes the envelope. And 
could have danced with joy as he read: 

“DIRECTIONS 

'^TMs box contains one phonograph and six blank 
records with a ^shaving outfit* The ^shaving outfit* 
consists of one recorder, one horn and other essen- 
tials, To make a record, attach cylinder m regular 
way, then attach horn to proper adjustruent. Sing 
or talk or whisper with mouth close to horn. Every 
sound will be reproduced upon the delicate fibers. 
Recorder must be attached to Tart X.** 

The directions were very simple and O’Conner 
read them over three times in order to memorize 
them, then, after wetting the paper thoroughly so 
as to make no noise, he tore it into shreds. He was 


HAGEN AND WARREN 


121 


cognizant that to tear dry paper noiselessly is well- 
nigh impossible. Then, going over to the window, 
bit by bit he dropped the paper through the iron 
bars to the ground below. And thus having dis- 
posed of Exhibit No. 1, Incriminating Evidence, he 
turned his attention to the bit of material under 
the covers. Bringing it to view it proved to be a 
bit of folded paper and, with a perplexed expres- 
sion, he flattened that which was a note. So with 
a heart full of thanksgiving and a wild hope he 
read: 

“Gang sent me to help you and Hicks. Com- 
municate any plans. — H.” 

This note O’Conner treated to the same process 
as the instructions and, two minutes later, having 
divested himself of his clothing, he crawled under 
the covers and immediately went to sleep. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE PHANTOM EIOT 

In a penitentiary individual desires are subservi- 
ent to the most essential needs to keep the human 
body from demoralizing into complete decay. There 
one is not pampered nor can he have that which he 
wants unless acquired by methods peculiar to prece- 
dent. Therefore, paper and pencil were luxuries. 

O’Conner desired to leave a note for Hagan under 
his bed covers that morning in order that he might 
be acquainted with the plans for escape and which 
plans, at the present, were but in the embryo stage. 
Yet O’Conner knew that it was impossible to com- 
municate with this particular guard until the morn- 
ing following. This he knew for a surety for, as 
clerk in the Commissary Department, paper and 
pencil were accessible to him and it remained but 
for an opportunity to present itself during the 
course of the day for him to write the note. Verbal 
communication with Hagan was almost an impossi- 
bility owing to the fear of detection. 

That day was a particularly trying one for O’Con- 
ner, because, with performing the prescribed routine 
122 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


123 


of travail and writing the note and maneuvering 
with the box containing the phonograph so as to 
keep it in a position where it would avoid probable 
detection, required the quintessence of wit. But, 
and more to the point, all in all, the day proved 
successful and the next morning Hagan read about 
the phonograph. 

It was the second day after the happy discovery 
of the phonograph that during a short lull. Chuck 
Warren heard another “Sss!” and went over to 
O’Conner’s side. 

‘‘I’ve got everything fixed and ready here in this 
box,” O’Conner whispered to his assistant. 

Warren merely nodded his head, for the fewer 
words spoken the less the fear. But he observed 
closely and saw O’Conner put the component parts 
together inside the box and in such a way that only 
the horn of the phonograph was visible. And he 
mentally gave O’Conner credit for exceeding clever- 
ness. 

O’Conner now instructed in as concise a form 
as was possible and in whispers: “When I start 
recorder call softly, but don’t whisper or let another 
sound escape your lips while it is on, ‘Help !’ in as 
many different tones as you can make. Pay no at- 
tention to me.” 

Warren understood and when O’Conner touched 
a minute lever that started the recorder he called: 
“Help!” in eight octaves, while O’Conner, with a 
slight gurgle whispered : “Murder ! Oh, God ! 


124 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Murder!” This the two men continued for a little 
over five minutes, then without more ado, O’Conner 
closed the receiver. 

“Get to your side of the room,” ordered O’Con- 
ner and at the same time removed the horn and, after 
placing it in the box, quickly clamped on the lid. 
And accomplished this none too soon, for a second 
later Warden Miller, with a guard at his heels, burst 
into the room excitedly. 

“What’s the noise in here.^” he demanded curtly. 

Both O’Conner and Warren looked around toward 
the Warden with expressions of incomprehension 
and amazement. 

“There was a noise in here. What was it.^” again 
demanded Miller. 

“The only noise we make is in opening boxes. 
Warden,” Con ventured. 

“It was voices,” asserted the warden. 

“It didn’t come from here,” O’Conner said, look- 
ing his jailer squarely in the eyes. 

“So it seems,” said Miller, and without another 
word strode from the room followed by the guard. 

And that same night a guard entered the Com- 
missary Department room and carried a tightly 
nailed box to his quarters, and if he had been ob- 
served no one thought it amiss. 

There followed this day a week that was unevent- 
ful and except for the perfection of the plan for 
the escape which necessitated many notes changing 
hands, from O’Conner to Bud Hicks and to Hagan, 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


125 


there was not the slightest surface-ripple to indi- 
cate that anything unusual was brewing in the minds 
of three of the prisoners and one guard. However, 
on Thursday of the next week, which incidentally 
was visitors’ day at the penitentiary, the stage 
being set, the curtain was about to be rung up on 
a thrilling, modern melodrama, which with the ab- 
sence of faked scenes and with the aid of natural 
environments, promised to hold the audience, which 
in this case would be the newspaper-reading public, 
spellbound with absorbed interest until the finale. 
Yet better still the authors would be the principal 
actors in the production. 

All callers must cease visiting at the penitentiary 
by five o’clock, for at five-thirty the prisoners are 
marched in squads to the dining hall and after the 
evening meal has been eaten, they are locked in their 
cells for the night. 

On this particular Thursday O’Conner, Hicks and 
Warren ate heartily. O’Conner and Bud were in 
the squad presided over by Hagan and, as he put 
them in their respective cells, through an evident 
oversight, he forgot to lock the doors. Had War- 
ren been in the same squad, Hagan would have had 
another lapse of memory anent locking the cell- 
door, but as this was not so, it promised to be quite 
a task to let Chuck in on the escape, for although 
his cell was on the same tier as that of Bud’s and 
Con’s, it was at the extreme other end of the build- 
ing. However, the wind was blowing in his favor 


126 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


for the keys that fitted the locks of the cell doors 
of the two pals would also unlock Chuck’s. 

It was nearly nine o’clock when Hagan passed 
the cell of Hicks and nodded his head slowly three 
times, then passed on to O’Conner’s cell and re- 
peated the performance. This had been decided 
upon as a signal that the time for action was propi- 
tious. 

Fifteen minutes prior to this Hagan had seen 
Warden Miller leave the penitentiary grounds and 
was cognizant that only one guard remained in the 
office. 

Hagan disappeared, was gone about ten minutes, 
returned hurriedly and slowed his pace only when 
he reached O’Conner’s cell. And as he passed he 
whispered to O’Conner who was leaning against the 
bars: “Now!” Trailing along at his side was 
Chuck Warren. 

That one small word of three letters: “Now!” 
was as important as though the General of a hostile 
army had given the command to fire upon the enemy : 
the results could not have been more electrifying, 
for scarcely had the word left his lips than from 
the tier above and way out toward the end of the 
building where there were no cells and which was 
the darkest part of the bastile there sounded very 
faintly, yet desperately, frantically and of carrying 
qualities and it seemed in many voices: 

“Help ! Help I Murder ! Murder 1 Oh, God, 
Murder I” 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


127 


Excitement reigned supreme! Guards with rifles 
and revolvers ready for action came running from 
every one of the three tiers of cells; they rushed 
past Hagan, shouting for him to remain on guard 
where he was and he calling back that he would do 
so. And from every cell there peered white-faced 
prisoners, vainly attempting to acquaint themselves 
with the direction from which the cries emanated 
and the why fore of them. And all the while the 
appeals for help continued unabated. 

Confusion amounting almost to a panic was sweep- 
ing the guards hither and thither, due to their in- 
ability to find the exact locality from which the 
sound came. It was horrifying and uncanny ! And 
the reason for this lay in the fact that Hagan had 
had sufficient foresight to hide the phonograph be- 
tween the flooring of the upper tier and the ceiling 
of the second tier, thus partially covering the source 
of the sounds and prolonging the return of the 
guards to their posts. Thus, with the calls of the 
guards and the answering calls of Hagan, it was 
small wonder that the other prisoners should add 
to the din and that in a few minutes bedlam broke 
loose, some of the men cursing, others moaning, while 
not a few joined in the calls for help and of murder. 
Yet amid all this hubbub there were four men as 
cool as though nothing were transpiring. 

O’Conner and Hicks remained in their cells only 
long enough to be certain beyond all shadow of a 
doubt that no more guards would pass, then they 


128 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


opened their cell doors and joined Hagan and War- 
ren, while Hagan, between his intervaled shouts that 
everything was O. K. with him, handed O’Conner 
a piece of stout rope. 

“Bind my feet first,” Hagan instructed, lying on 
the floor. 

O’Conner, with the assistance of Hicks, had Ha- 
gan securely bound in a jiffy. And while they were 
thus occupied the guard reached into two of his 
pockets and, drawing forth two automatic revolv- 
ers, handed them to Warren, saying: 

“One of you will have to tote this gun. Sorry, 
but I couldn’t get my hands on three of these quick- 
action men, but you’ll not likely have any trouble — 
in fact, I don’t think you’ll have to use them.” 

“Not unless we’re cornered,” asserted O’Conner. 
“We want to save that ammunition — ^we may need it 
later.” 

“Be careful with that gag,” Hagan warned. 
“Not too tight.” And, as Bud was about to adjust 
it to his month, he said: “There’s only one guard 
in the office. That’s all you’ll need to know. Now, 
slip the silencer and beat it !” 

Swiftly the three men made their way to the iron 
stairway and down this to the door of the office. 
The babel from above had not yet subsided in any 
way whatsoever but, as long as the massive door of 
iron remained closed, little sound could penetrate 
to the office; however, the moment the door was 
opened the guard therein would be on the qui vive. 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


129 


“I’ll go in first and let him cover me,” said Con 
with his hand on the knob, “but above all act quick 
enough so that he can’t take my gun away.” And 
so, with this parting injunction, he swung the door 
on its steel hinges and entered. 

The guard, first at the sound of the turmoil and 
then at sight of Con sprang up out of his chair, but 
before he managed to “cover” O’Conner that in- 
dividual gained a position where the guard, in order 
to keep his revolver trained on him, would have his 
back to the door. This was what O’Conner desired. 
And then, just as the guard was in the act of put- 
ting the whistle to his mouth, the blowing of which 
would summon aid. Bud, who had entered stealthily, 
hit him over the head with the butt of his revolver 
and the guard fell to the floor unconscious. 

“Unload that rifle and take the guard’s bull-dog 
instead of that lumbersome gun,” directed O’Conner, 
as he made for the exit door. But, to his chagrin, 
he found this door locked and no key in the hole. 
For a moment he was in a quandary, but turning 
to- Warren he ordered : 

“Get those keys from that man!” 

Warren had the keys in a second — a bunch of 
ten. 

“Nix,” growled O’Conner, eyeing the bunch sav- 
agely. He had seen at a glance that none of them 
would fit the door. 

Hicks, a dozen feet away, raised his revolver 
and, taking careful aim at the lock, was about to 


130 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


shoot when O’Conner stopped him with a gesture. 

“You fool — this door’s iron and any shot will 
rouse the guards outside if they aren’t already wise,” 
he hissed angrily, and, at the same time moved over 
to one of the windows. This was also locked but 
easily opened. Fortunately only the lower half was 
iron-barred. 

Dexterous ability O’Conner displayed, and won- 
derful ingenuity concerning the time which had 
elapsed since he had had sufficient and proper exer- 
cise to keep his body and muscles in accustomed con- 
dition, when he lowered the upper window sash and 
climbed out on to the wide casement. Here he 
stopped only a sufficient length of time to assure 
himself that Bud and Chuck would follow suit, then 
dropped to the ground. 

Swiftly the three ran across the grounds toward 
the exit gate, keeping as much as possible in the 
shadows, scarcely a rustle did they make in their 
speedy flight and presently, unobserved, undetected, 
reached the shadow of the fifteen-foot brick wall 
which surrounded the grounds. Along the base of 
this they made their way to within ten yards of the 
guard house at the entrance, then slowed down to a 
snail’s pace. There was always a guard at this 
entrance, they knew, the gate to which was never 
locked, also they were cognizant that to have at- 
tempted to scale this wall would have been worse 
than folly, for then they would have made easy 
targets for the bullets of the guard. 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


131 


It was O’Conner’s hobby that he had never killed 
a man and he wished to preserve this record as long 
as was possible. So, when within ten feet of the 
gate, he panted under his breath: “Easy. That 
guy is looking our way and I wouldn’t be surprised 
if he was hep.” 

O’Conner’s surmise had been correct, for suddenly 
the guard crouched low and pointed his rifle in the 
direction of the men, but Warren, who had his re- 
volver trained upon this human obstacle to their 
liberty, did not give him an opportunity to pull the 
trigger for a bullet from his revolver hit square in 
the very nick of time. 

It was now a case of run or fight for their lives, 
for they were well aware that the shot had been 
heard by other guards and so their doom was spelled. 
Therefore, taking the lesser danger they made a wild 
rush for the outside and had no more than cleared 
the gateway than they heard several shots fired and 
a whistle blow. 

Some men when extraordinary situations appear 
necessitating strenuous efforts are panic-stricken to 
the point of immobility, but O’Conner and Hicks 
and Warren, having more or less all their lives played 
with fire, so to speak, were equal to the demands 
of the occasion and fleetingly they ran the three 
hundred feet to the railroad yards. And as they 
reached the tracks a freight train came bowling 
along at a fair clip. 

“Jump this!” said O’Conner. 


132 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


It was an easy matter for the men to board one 
of the cars and after this they made their way to 
the caboose at the tail end, having encountered no 
one in their perilous climb along the tops of more 
than half a dozen box cars. 

Bud opened the door of the caboose and five men 
looked into the muzzle of his revolver, and, as he 
advanced, they beheld two more men directly behind 
Jiim with revolvers leveled at them, making three 
who wore the garb of the penitentiary and whose 
determined expressions evinced that any interference 
would be met in most strenuous fashion. 

O’Conner acted as spokesman and in a tone that 
carried the impression of geniality he said: “Boys, 
we’re not going to harm you as long as you act white. 
But,” — ^here his voice became a menace and a warn- 
ing at one and the same time — “the first crooked 
move and we won’t be accountable for what hap- 
pens. Now, suppose that just for the sake of your 
own protection and to prevent us from becoming 
possible murderers, all of you throw your guns on 
that upper bunk in the corner.” 

While the trainmen were not cowards, they were 
not fools and so, simultaneously, five revolvers were 
tossed in the air and fell on the bunk which O’Con- 
ner had indicated. 

“So far so good,” O’Conner smilingly evinced his 
satisfaction, then, after a few minutes’ considera- 
tion, he continued: “The next thing on the list is 
clothes. Of course, we don’t want anything for 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


133 


nothing, so we’ll buy your clothes — call it a forced 
sale on credit — for you know we haven’t any money 
with us now. But you three write your names and 
addresses on a piece of paper and we’ll remit to you 
by money order.” 

Thus, a short time later, three pairs of trousers, 
three shirts, three coats and three hats were at the 
disposal of the escapees. ^ 

“Gentlemen, within ten days each of the owners 
of these duds will receive forty dollars,” said O’Con- 
ner. “I guess that will reimburse you. And be- 
sides you’ll get your clothes back by parcel post. 
O’Conner is my name and these other two friends 
of mine are Bud Hicks and Chuck Warren. Sorry 
we can’t shake hands and offer to treat, but you see 
our collective health won’t stand for such little nice- 
ties of civilization. But you can bank on it that 
if ever we can do any of you a favor, all you need 
do is to mention it.” 

The train crew fairly gasped, for the records of 
Con and Bud and Chuck were well known. 

O’Conner now turned to Warren with the instruc- 
tions : “Here, Chuck” — throwing him a coat, a 
shirt and a pair of trousers — “you get dolled up 
first while Bud and I keep watch.” And to Bud: 
“Bud, it will be your turn, after which I’ll see how 
I look in a color not gray. And then as a fitting 
finale we’ll throw these beloved tattle-tale uniforms 
to the weeds.” 

Within ten minutes the change of clothes had 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


134i 

been made and O’Conner, turning again to the rail- 
roaders and in tones eminently conversational, said: 
“Boys, suppose all of you come up to this end of 
the car while we get to the rear. And if duty takes 
any of you outside one of us will accompany you.” 
Then he turned to Bud with the forethought: “The 
three of us will need sleep, so you lie down on one 
of these bunks for two hours, then Chuck will take 
his turn at snoring and last, but not least, yours 
truly will sink into the arms of Morpheus. If this 
train keeps on at this rate, we’ll be somewhere by 
morning.” 

Slowly the night wore on. At rare intervals it 
was necessary for one of the crew to leave the ca- 
boose to receive dispatching orders from the hand 
of some sleepy station agent and on these occasions 
one of the three fugitives trailed along. Otherwise 
the trend of events was montonous. 

It was shortly after dawn when the train ran onto 
a siding to allow a limited express to thunder by. 

“How far are we from the State line.^” Hicks in- 
quired of one of the men. 

“About two miles,” came the answer. 

Bud awakened Con and, after a short parley, 
O’Conner said to the crew: 

“Boys, we’ve decided to leave you here. Awfully 
sorry we can’t ride longer, but for the second time 
within twenty-four hours our collective health de- 
mands that we disembark.” 

“You’re not as bad as you’ve been painted,” 


was 


THE PHANTOM RIOT 


135 


the verbal opinion of one of the railroaders. And, 
as the train moved off, he called: “Don’t forget 
to remit.” 

The three men found themselves in a virgin coun- 
try. Rolling hills were ever3rwhere with ever and 
anon, as though but to please the eye of man, in 
peaceful repose a valley. Arid as the sun crossed 
the Eastern horizon, it produced a feeling of awe. 

“This is certainly better than the air in the pen,” 
observed Bud, stretching his arms high oVer his head 
in exultation. 

Con and Chuck agreed by inhaling deeply of the 
primeval ozone. And, being miles from the nearest 
habitation, and the train having been gone some 
twenty minutes, they, without any fear of appre- 
hension, enjoyed to the fullest this initiation to free- 
dom. So, shortly thereafter, finding a secluded 
nook hard by, as with one mind they threw them- 
selves to the ground and promptly went to sleep. 

When they awoke the sun was near the zenith. 
Surmising that word of their escape had by this 
time been forwarded to all the towns along the rail- 
roads and that the crew of the freight train would, 
at the first opportunity, report its experience, the 
three realized the danger of following the tracks and 
so struck off across country. And as they walked 
they discussed plans for the future. 


CHAPTER XV 


WESTWARD ho! 

James O’Conner, alias Con; Robert Hicks, alias 
Bud; Henry Warren, alias Chuck! A fine combina- 
tion, it is true ! Con, the King of Clubs ; Bud, the 
King of Diamonds; Chuck, the King of Spades! 
Hearts never entered into any game the three men 
played : love of woman was to them a thing unknown. 
Three of a kind that could and, moreover, would 
outbluff any flush ever dealt in wits and daring. 

O’Conner, as he walked along the country road, 
fell into a mood which was partly sullen and partly 
a reverie, while Bud and Chuck were wide awake, 
talkative and effervescent. 

“Why the grouch, Con.?” inquired Bud. 

“You’re surely not hungry.?” came forth from 
Chuck. 

To which two queries O’Conner answered with the 
monosyllable: “No.” 

A brief season of silence and then Bud forwarded: 
“What’s on your mind.?” 

“I’ll tell you presently.” 

136 


WESTWARD HO! 


137 


“Why not unburden now?” 

“You wouldn’t pick any fruit to eat that wasn’t 
ripe, would you?” 

“I knew he was hungry,” observed Chuck. 

“I am — ^but that’s not what’s made me uncom- 
municative.” 

“Well, we’re hungry too — ^maybe hungrier than 
you are and just look how happy we are.” 

“Oh, I guess I’m the goat then.” 

“Your guess is bad, because if you were Mister 
Billy, you’d be eating some of this grass right now.” 

“All right, have it your way, but I wish you’d let 
me alone until I get through thinking.” 

Thereafter Bud and Chuck contented themselves 
with each other’s companionship sans the inimitable 
voice of O’Conner to make a trio until presently 
with yells of delight they sighted and made for a lone 
cherry orchard and, in lieu of anything else, made 
a meal of that fruit. Chuck, who had wandered a 
bit away from Bud and Con, came back to report 
that he had discovered a cow nearby and was for 
having a fine quaff of milk when Con stopped him 
with: 

“You’d be a fine one on our hands with a com- 
bination of milk and cherries inside of you. We’ve 
got enough to do to tote our own bodies along with- 
out lugging you as a helpless, flabby mass. Better 
let well enough alone. Your stomach’s full, so what 
more do you want?” 

After a short rest they again commenced to walk 


138 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


— perhaps for some twenty minutes, O’Conner now 
lagging behind more or less three hundred yards 
while every once in a while Bud or Chuck would 
wheel around to call back to him some inanities, but 
so far as they were concerned they could have ad- 
dressed their facetious remarks to the air, for there 
was absolutely no response. However, half an hour 
later, as they were resting on the cross beams of an 
old-fashioned, almost dilipidated covered bridge. 
Con’s eyes lighted and to the others he exclaimed: 

“By jinks! I have it!” 

“What.?” growled Chuck, who was almost too 
tired to be civil. 

“The way we’re going to make money and get 
West where we aren’t known,” answered O’Conner 
with hilarious enthusiasm. 

“All right — spout,” said Bud. 

And thereafter, for half an hour, O’Conner out- 
lined his plans and they met with the hearty appro- 
bation of Hicks and Warren and had the effect to 
make the latter forget his grouch. 

Across the State line there is a town of some 
forty thousand inhabitants. Into this town trooped 
three weary men who kept well in the darkened spots, 
for they had waited on the outskirts until the fall 
of night. And immediately they had entered each 
took a divergent route, to meet again, two hours 
later, at the spot where they separated. And when 
they met there again and counted the spoils of crook- 


WESTWARD HO! 


139 


war, they found that each was richer, after an equal 
division, by one hundred and thirty-seven dollars. 

In this town they did not tarry, but immediately 
proceeded due West some eighteen miles to a town 
of approximately five thousand souls. This place 
they reached early in the morning and, after par- 
taking of a substantial breakfast, made purchases 
of all clothes needed to give a man the appearance 
of a gentleman. After this they registered at the 
best hotel the town afforded under assumed names 
and before doing anything else, sent to three railroad 
men forty dollars, making a total of one hundred 
and twenty dollars. Hicks attended to the purchas- 
ing of the money orders while Con indited a letter 
to the home town and, in particular, to one of his 
old pals, and which letter he read to the other two 
when Hicks returned. It ran: 

“We are here in this town. Post Office noted above, 
under assumed names. We are almost broke, but 
I have decided that we won’t be that for long and 
the way out of the woods is to use our old card 
stunt which we haven’t done for ten years. So, if 
you will send me, by express collect, a suit case full 
of those special decks, I shall let you in on two per 
cent, of our profits. 

“Yours for auld lang syne, 

“O’Conner, alias (new) Joseph Dodd.” 

This letter was dispatched with a special delivery 
stamp attached. 


140 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“How long will it take for the cards to get here?” 
inquired Warren, with a tinge of impatience. 

“It oughtn’t to take longer than three days at 
the most,” answered O’Conner. 

“And you mean to say we’ve got to loaf for three 
solid days?” chorused Bud and Chuck. 

“Not if I know my name. These next two days 
will be the busiest you’ve ever spent, for you’re go- 
ing to school — a school whereby you will master 
the art of selling cards — and I’m to be the teacher.” 

Therefore, by noon of the second day, both Hicks 
and Warren were masters of the art of selling cards 
and knew by heart every special mark that was 
scrolled on the back of the cards that were coming 
and the indications thereof. 

O’Conner had guessed correctly as to the time re- 
quired for the transmission of the suit case and so, 
on the fourth day, bright and early in the morning. 
Bud and Chuck, each laden with a suitcase, half of 
which contained cards and the other half clothes, 
set out upon the business of selling playing cards. 

The rear part of the saloon of Dan Hawthorne 
in the town of Walton is the rendezvous for all those 
whose tendencies are for gambling, whether inher- 
ited or applied. So, when into Walton there wan- 
dered, by way of the branch railroad, a man by 
the name of Joseph Dodd, presumably a prospective 
buyer of a farm, he was initiated into Hawthorne’s 
Back-Room Club. 


WESTWARD HO! 


141 


There were two games of poker going at the time 
— at one table Stud, at the other table a Jack-pot 
game. 

For quite some time Dodd, with merely indiffer- 
ent interest, watched the progress of the two games. 
Then he was invited to join. But he refused. How- 
ever, he still lingered. An hour passed. Then one 
of the players, having other business to transact 
elsewhere, left a vacancy. This Dodd was asked to 
fill. He accepted. He bought the usual amount of 
chips which cost him two dollars. 

Dodd, on the first round, stayed in the game al- 
though all that he had drawn was a pair of treys. 
The second round he fared little better. The third 
round he didn’t even draw a pair. 

“Suppose we have another deck of cards,” he sug- 
gested to Hawthorne. 

Hawthorne went behind the counter and brought 
forth a new deck of cards for which the kitty was 
charged twenty cents. 

The game proceeded. Three more hands were 
dealt; three times Dodd lost. He was on his last 
chip when he called for another deck. The pro- 
prietor started for the case where the cards were 
kept when he was interrupted by Shultz, who pro- 
tested : 

“I don’t see why we should have so many decks 
all at once, Hawt’orne.” 

This protest was met by a chorus of: “That’s 
all right,” and: “That’s the way big games are 


142 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


played,” and: “Don’t pay no attention to him, Mr. 
Dodd, ’cause he’s a miser.” 

So Hawthorne brought out the new deck and, just 
as he was about to take the twenty cents from the 
kitty, Dodd said: 

“You let me pay for this deck. I see it isn’t the 
custom here to have a new deck, but I’m a super- 
stitious sort of fellow and — ” 

There was a short debate which ended in the uni- 
versal agreement that henceforth Dodd should pay 
for all the new decks that were used. Was Dodd 
willing.'* He was. 

But Dodd continued to lose despite his many 
changes of decks. Another hour elapsed and then 
he asserted : “Gentlemen, I’m going to buy my fifth 
stack of chips and I’m going to change cards maybe 
once or twice again.” 

“But I have no more decks,” said Hawthorne, 
then immediately he remembered: “Oh, sure I have 
— there’s some sample decks that a drummer for a 
new company left here last week. Said if we liked 
them we could have them cheaper than these.” And 
without more ado he brought forth a deck of the 
sample cards. 

Dodd took twenty cents from his stack and was 
about to hand them to Hawthorne when the latter 
said: 

“I won’t charge you anything for these — they 
cost me nothing, so they cost you nothing.” 


WESTWARD HO! 


143 


There is not anyone who, if something is presented 
to him in the proper way, cannot and will not ac- 
cept it for nothing and so, Dodd being no exception 
to the rule, was satisfied. 

In less than half an hour Dodd had paid back to 
the bank his five stacks and was eleven stacks to the 
good. 

“I say we quit,” suggested Shultz. ‘T don’t not 
like diss losing business— I am fertich” 

And for once all the players were in accord with 
him. 

The next day Dodd was on hand at the saloon 
early. He won continuously, however, at intervals, 
allowing the others to take in a few pots. But when 
they ceased to play for the day Dodd was thirty- 
six dollars to the good and had cleaned out every- 
body. 

“We’ll get even,” said Shultz in friendly tones. 
“We can’t play until next week and — ” 

“Sorry,” said Dodd, “but I won’t be here until 
week after next, because I have some business in the 
city that needs my attention.” 

Thus, from town to town Dodd played his game 
until he was far West of the Rocky Mountains. It 
was necessary for him to send money from each town 
where he played to two drummers who were selling 
decks of cards and, who, if they did not sell, invari- 
ably left from two to three samples of their goods. 

Forty days later, O’Conner, alias Dodd, Bud 


144 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Hicks and Chuck Warren met in San Francisco, 
and, in checking up accounts, it was found that each 
was sixteen hundred dollars to the good. 

And in commenting upon the scheme the three had 
worked with such success O’Conner said: “Talk 
about easy money — it was the softest job I’ve had 
in a coon’s age. And what is better I don’t think 
that one of those would-be gamblers will ever get 
wise to the fact that I put it over on them. Yet 
even so we can’t follow up this stunt and there’s 
the rub.” 

“What’s the diff, anyway Bud Hicks queried. 
“Aren’t you satisfied that we’re where we wanted 
to be — and with sixteen hundred dollars in our jeans 
at that.?” 

A wistful expression entered Con’s eyes as he an- 
swered: “No, I’m not satisfied. Sixteen hundred 
won’t keep us for the rest of our lives. Of course, 
it will give us a chance to take a little needed rest, 
but after that we’ve got to plan out some really 
decent job. I’m not going to stay at this sort of 
thing all my life — what I want is to settle down and 
take things easy, but I’m not going to do it until I 
have some fortune laid away.” 

“That’s the dope,” agreed Warren. And Bud 
Hicks, after a short silence, coincided : 

“I guess you’re right. Con — it’s not at all con- 
genial in a penitentiary nor in an Old Man’s Home.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


CLEAEING FOR ACTION 

Six weeks had elapsed since O’Conner, Hicks and 
Warren had entered the State of California, and 
during this time they had “lain low,” and now O’Con- 
ner had a silken Van Dyke beard, a brush mustache 
and he had dyed his hair to an outlandish shade of 
red; Hicks had acquired a decidedly lame back and 
limped with his right leg; Warren had lost an arm 
and wore pince-nez. So completely disguised were 
they that even Hagan could not have readily rec- 
ognized them. And they were far enough distant 
from their old stamping grounds to be comparatively 
safe. Thus is evinced once more that a thief of a 
higher degree, to be successful, must be, besides other 
accomplishments, an actor of the highest capabili- 
ties. 

“There,” exclaimed O’Conner, holding up a piece 
of cardboard over which he had been working 
steadily for almost half an hour, “I guess I’ve rigged 
a magnet that will draw the golden shekels from 
those Eastern Johnny- Jump-Ups, all right, all 
right !” 


146 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Hicks and Warren gathered around the table and 
beheld, printed on the cardboard: 

OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS AT YOUR DOOR 
RANCHES ! 

$50 THE ACRE $50 THE ACRE 

NO MORE NO LESS THE FINEST 

STRAWBERRIES APPLE PEAR RAISIN 

ALFALFA CELERY LEMON ORANGE. 

PAY LESS ! MAKE MORE ! A CINCH ! 

BUY NOW WRITE TO-DAY THINK ! 

GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED 
GOLD HILL, CALIFORNIA. 

“Say, Con — I mean. Mister Ryan, you missed 
your vocation,” remarked Bud, laughingly. “You 
should have gone in for advertisement writing — I’ve 
heard those ginks make from one to two hundred 
dollars per week the whole year through.” 

“Aw, quit your joshing. Mister Lammert,” re- 
torted Ryan, good-humoredly. “Better wait until 
I read you my circular, then you’ll think I’m there 
with the hot-air bull forty ways. And now. Mister 
Chuck Elgin, what have you to say.f^” 

Chuck straightened his figure to its full height, 
his brows drew together until they formed a frown, 
the while his pince-nez slipped from his near- 


CLEARING FOR ACTION 


147 


aqueline nose and, assuming an air of dignity, the 
while he attempted to recover the offending glasses, 
he requested in a deep bass voice : “The papers, me 
Handsome, the papers, I says !” 

“Meaning, I presume, the circular,” surmised he 
who was now Ryan. 

“Aye, aye — and make haste,” continued Chuck. 

Therefore, smiling yet with an expression and air 
of absolute servility, Ryan reached to the far end 
of the table and, gaining the cardboard upon which 
he had been laboring, moved it out of the way to 
reveal a sheet of paper, closely written. And, clear- 
ing his throat with much feigned gusto, he read 
aloud : 

“‘The plan of GOLD HILL, INCORPOR- 
ATED, is the finest that has yet been offered to the 
public. In its liberalness it is astounding. GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED proposes to sell one part 
of a one hundred and eighty thousand acre tract 
in the famous Gold Hill River district for fifty dol- 
lars the acre in not less than fifty-acre parcels and 
not more than four parcels of land to any one buyer. 

“ ‘This land will be planted for the buyers in Win- 
ter Nellis Pears, Prunes, Spitzenberg, Jonathan and 
Lady Apples, Alfalfa, Strawberries, Lemons, Grapes 
and Oranges. 

' “ ‘An electric light plant and a water plant for 

private and irrigation purposes have just been com- 
pleted at a cost of seven hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars, thus insuring perfect sanitation and always 


148 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


an ample supply of water throughout the GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED, district. For this con- 
venience a nominal tax charge will be levied. 

« ‘GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED, makes but 
one stipulation, to wit: that no bungalow may be 
erected on GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED, lands 
at a cost of less than one thousand dollars and that 
the bungalow must be completed by the purchaser 
'within three months after the sale is consummated; 
otherwise the land and everything thereon reverts to 
GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED. 

“ ‘The terms of payment are : ONE-HALF cash ; 
ONE-FOURTH the second year; the BALANCE 
the third year. This enables the purchase of land 
with a limited capital and also enables the land to 
PAY FOR ITSELF. 

“ ‘In closing, we defy anyone anywhere to find a 
proposition HALF AS GOOD AT DOUBLE THE 
PRICE. It will MORE THAN PAY YOU to in- 
vestigate before this bargain is a thing of past rec- 
ord. Therefore, write us TO-DAY ! Write to 
GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED without a mo- 
ment’s delay.’ ” 

The three men were serious now and, as Ryan 
finished the reading and laid the paper on the table 
and took up another, there was not a word of com- 
ment. 

“Here,” said Ryan, “is a list that cost us twenty- 
five dollars. Seven hundred names and all pros- 
perous farmers.” He started to read the States, 


CLEARING FOR ACTION 


149 


but had not mentioned more than three when the en- 
trance of the mail interrupted him. So, giving his 
attention to the one letter, he slit the envelope, ex- 
tracted the insert and read: 

“ ‘WiU you gentlemen be at my room in the hotel 
to-morrow at four? — McClatch.’ ” 

Earl McClatch, veteran real estate man, was the 
sales manager for the Gold Hill Land Holdings Com- 
pany which owned the one hundred and eighty thou- 
sand acre tract, eighteen hundred acres of which 
O’Conner, Hicks and Warren, under their aliases had 
considered as a worthy tool with which to ply their 
profession. The three men had met McClatch some 
few days previous and had opened negotiations. 

“Are we going?” inquired Bud. 

“We are,” answered Con. 

And therefore at four o’clock on the following 
afternoon the three entered the room of Earl Mc- 
Clatch. 

McClatch immediately offered cigars and then 
launched into the business to hand with the opening 
stereotype: “Gentlemen, I trust that you have 

considered favorably the purchase of the eighteen 
hundred acres which we discussed at our first meet- 
ing the other day.” His pronunciation was ex- 
actingly precise. 

O’Conner, acting as spokesman, said: “Yes — 
we are prepared to buy the land if we can come to 
satisfactory terms.” 

“And those are?” 


150 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“Well, the other day you asked us seven dollars 
the acre. We considered that too high and offered 
you three. Therefore, we are willing to compromise 
— say at four and a half or five dollars.” O’Con- 
ner’s expression was difficult for McClatch to pene- 
trate. 

The sales manager puffed thoughtfully at his 
cigar while he made a rough estimate on a scratch 
pad then, a few seconds later, he looked up and said : 
“That’s nine thousand dollars.” And, shaking his 
head, he continued with a shrewd expression: “I’m 
afraid that I can let you have only fifteen hundred 
acres at that price.” 

“Nine thousand dollars for eighteen hundred acres 
or nothing. Mister McClatch,” ultimated Ryan in a 
firm voice. 

McClatch again did some figuring on his time- 
gaining pad of paper ere he queried with the in- 
direct capitulation: “How do you gentlemen pro- 
pose to pay.'^” 

“Thirty days,” answered Ryan curtly. 

There was another season of silence on the part 
of the sales manager, due to the fact that instead 
of considering the question at hand for the com- 
pany’s interest he was figuring on his commission. 
And, evidently, this being satisfactory, he said with 
a bit of hesitation: “Very well, gentlemen, we can 
sign the deed at once, although I want you to keep 
silent on the price you paid.” 

“We understand,” said Ryan, “but we are not 


CLEARING FOR ACTION 


151 


yet ready to sign — that is, not until we arrange for 
water and lights. Five cents for light and three 
cents for water is our proposal.” 

Without a word McClatch reached for the tele- 
phone and summoned a notary public. Thereafter 
it required but fifteen minutes for the signing of the 
documents of sale. This was on the first day of 
May. 

On the fifteenth day of May a news item appeared 
in one of the newspapers of a Nevada town of ten 
thousand people which ran: 

‘‘One of the cleverest hold-ups ever perpetrated in 
this city was staged last night at the exclusive 
Miners’ Club. The money taken by the thieves 
amounts to a little over fifteen thousand dollars. 

“Three dapper-appearing men, posing as Eastern 
capitalists, have been living, for the past ten days, 
in lavisii style at our best hotel. And, as a conse- 
quence, through the President of the Commercial 
Club were introduced two days ago at the Miners’ 
Club. Last night the three were invited to sit in a 
poker game. 

“According to the report of the police this morn- 
ing the game in which the three men were partici- 
pants had three thousand dollars in the pot. Sud- 
denly, so the report alleges, at a quarter past one, 
as though with one thought, the thieves held up the 
room at the points of their revolvers and, grabbing 
everything in sight, made a hasty exit before any- 


152 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


one could recover his wits. The thieves did not 
bother to search their victims but were satisfied with 
the stakes of the many games in progress. Later 
developments revealed the amount of currency taken. 

“It is the belief of the police that the thieves 
boarded the early morning train for the East, but 
up to presstime they had not been apprehended.” 

The article was correct save in one particular, for 
instead of boarding the East-bound train the three 
men had entered an automobile standing at the curb 
of the Club and had raced westward out of town — 
and toward California. 

And thus it was that on the twentieth day of May 
the Gold Hill Land Holdings Company received a 
certified check of nine thousand dollars in payment 
for eighteen hundred acres of land in Gold Hill dis- 
trict, the check bearing the signature of GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED, per James C. Ryan, 
President. 


CHAPTER XVII 


BEIGHT PROSPECTS 

If we only knew exactly what we wanted it would 
take very little indeed to satisfy the majority of us, 
but, happily or sadly, the majority does not know 
from one minute to the next its desires. Malcolm 
Spruce and his brother Abner, Eastern farmers, 
were not exceptions; however, they were consistent 
enough to adhere to the satiating of any desire, no 
matter how long the acquisition required. 

“Can you beat this?” enthusiastically demanded 
Malcolm Spruce of his brother Abner as he thrust 
before the latter’s eyes a magazine devoted to the 
interests of Western Real Estate and Ranching, 
and which was opened to a page containing from 
margin to margin an advertisement. 

Abner took the magazine and read, while a pleased 
smile which just escaped the bounds of a grin slowly 
overspread his features and broke the well-defined 
lines of his cheeks, the latter caused by contact with, 
as our nautical friend defines, “weather.” And 
what he looked at was the advertisement of GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED, which commenced: 

“opportunity knocks at your door!” 

163 


154j 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“Doesn’t that beat anything all hollow that we’ve 
seen since we decided to go West?” again demanded 
Malcolm. 

“Have you written yet?” queried Abner, ignoring 
his brother’s enthusiasm and cocking his head to one 
side. 

“You bet I have — I got it down to the Post Office 
in time for the evening Chicago train.” 

“Then we’ll just sit still and hold tight and see 
what they answer us,” was Abner’s sage assertion. 

“But what’s the use of waiting — you can’t never 
get no place unless you move.” 

“No, but neither does a rolling stone gather any 
moss.” 

“Well, have it your way then.” 

Ten days elapsed and then the Spruce brothers 
received at their home near a small Pennsylvania 
hamlet a letter and the circular of GOLD HILL, 
INCORPORATED, together with a folder map 
showing to a nicety, locations, etc. 

Malcolm read the matter first and then Abner, 
and when Abner looked up, having finished his 
perusal, Malcolm was busy figuring on a scrap of 
paper. 

Abner watched him in silence for several minutes, 
but his curiosity getting the better of him he in- 
quired: “What are you figuring?” 

Malcolm did not heed him immediately, but kept 
on plying his pencil, yet presently, raising his eyes. 


BRIGHT PROSPECTS 


155 


he said: “Abner, between us we’ve got nine thou- 
sand dollars — that is, we’ll have it if Doc Meyer 
comes across. There’s fifty-five hundred in Uncle 
Samuel’s bonds we own and I reckon that it’d be a 
good idea to take up old man Meyer — ^his offer of 
thirty-five hundred for this place.” 

Abner scratched his head thoughtfully for a short 
period, then essayed: “Of course, we could hold 
off a while and maybe get four thousand from Doc.” 

“And maybe we wouldn’t,” retorted Malcolm. 
“And besides that offer of Doc’s is a good one. No 
one around these parts wants this place — they 
haven’t got the ready cash to pay for it.” 

Abner did not argue, but returned to his original 
quest by inquiring: “What you been figuring on 
that piece of paper His voice was insistent. 

Forthwith Malcolm read from the paper, inter- 
spersing with detailed explanations. Said he: “I 
calculated that we could take fifty acres of this here 
Gold Hill, Incorporated, land and, pro- 
viding we didn’t make anything off’n it for two 
or three years, it would amount to a laying out of 
not more’n twenty-five hundred dollars for living 
expenses. But we’re sure to turn some money al- 
most right away for we’re born farmers and know 
what to do with soil. Now see, that’s twelve hun- 
dred dollars down for the land — fifty acres of it — 
and another thousand for the bungalow, which makes 
a cash outlay of only three thousand dollars the first 


156 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


year. Of course, our railroad expenses we can’t 
count in with the other because no matter where 
we go it’ll be extra for travel.” 

“But you forgot water and light bills,” reminded 
Abner, and thought he was clever. 

“Oh, I counted all that in with the living,” an- 
swered Malcolm impatiently. 

“And what did you say it amounts to.?” asked 
Abner whose memory for figures was a trifle below 
par, but who could grasp impressions at large much 
better than his brother. 

Malcolm handed over the piece of paper with the 
amounts set down in pencil and Abner’s brows, as 
he studied them, contracted into a frown which gave 
the impression that soon he would voice his objec- 
tion and in no uncertain manner at that. Yet here, 
for once, the anticipation was not realized for with- 
out a word Abner arose and, taking his hat from 
the whatnot, set it resolutely on his head and crossed 
over to the door. 

“Abner Spruce, where are you going now.?” de- 
manded his wife. 

“Over to see Doc Meyer,” he told her in a loud 
voice after a slight hesitation. 

Mrs. Abner refrained from comment, but Mal- 
colm, divining his brother’s purpose, said: 

“Good luck to you! I only hope you get five 
thousand.” 

Halting only a sufficient length of time to chuckle 
audibly and his tone ascending in its quality of boast- 


BRIGHT PROSPECTS 


167 


fulness, he said: “I’m more likely to get it than 
you would three.” 

“Dreaming’s good this time of the year,” retorted 
Malcolm, pertinently. 

But his sarcasm was lost, for Abner was outside 
already and did not hear. 

An hour later Abner returned. His expression 
was almost pitiful, so crestfallen was it. During 
Abner’s absence Malcolm had imparted to his own 
and to his brother’s wife the news and the exact pur- 
port of the visit to Doc Meyer, so that now the 
three waited patiently and a little disappointedly, 
it is true, for Abner to announce his failure to con- 
summate the deal. Yet, when more than five min- 
utes had elapsed and Abner did not utter a syllable, 
Malcolm, no longer able to wait, chafed derisively: 

“Gee whizz, Abner! I sure do like to hear some 
folks blow about the cream their cows give, then 
when you get a sample you find it nothing more 
than skimmed milk. It certainly is rich — ^not the 
cream, but the joke on you.” Wherewith he gave 
vent to his mirth in a more or less uproarious man- 
ner, and in which he was soon joined by the two 
wives. 

Abner’s countenance remained placid, even a bit 
stern, but presently and very slowly he reached into 
the inside pocket of his coat and brought forth to 
view a neatly folded sheet of foolscap paper. This 
he opened out and handed to Malcolm, who, with 
a quizzical expression, read aloud: 


158 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“ ‘I, Sloan Meyer, do herewith agree to and bind 
myself legally to purchase within one week from 
date of signature the property known as the Spruce 
Farm, situate in Penn County, State of Pennsyl- 
vania, and which said farm belongs freely and solely 
to Malcolm Spruce and Abner Spruce jointly, for 
the sum of five thousand dollars ($5,000) cash.’ ” 

Malcolm, when he saw the notary’s seal and Doc’s 
signature, grinned almost idiotically and almost in- 
voluntarily exclaimed: “Well, I’ll be plumb jig- 
gered !” 

“Hm! You all thought I’d be turned down, did 
you.? Hm! You all thought I was making a fool 
of myself, did you.? Well, I just bluffed to see what 
you’d say and how easy you was. And you was 
as easy as a pair of old shoes that’s been left un- 
fastened. It sure is rich — ^not the cream, but the 
joke that’s on you, not me.” And Abner relaxed 
into a hilarious fit of laughing. 

“But how’d you manage it.?” queried Malcolm. 
“Did you hypnotize Doc.?” 

Abner shook his head negatively, then related: 
“Talk about the miracles in the Bible, this puts them 
all in the shade. It was this way: I goes to Doc 
all excited like and tells him I just had an offer of 
six thousand dollars, but that as he’d made the first 
offer, I’d let him have it for five. Well, Doc he 
sets for a spell, but didn’t ask no questions and 
when he gets through thinking he totes me over to 


BRIGHT PROSPECTS 


159 


Squire Beck’s and — presto chango ! he signs for five 
thousand.” 

Malcolm was a bit jealous of his brother and so 
to discredit to a certain extent the other’s shrewd- 
ness, he arose and exaggeratingly imitated in a high 
falsetto voice and much to the amusement of the 
women: “Oh, sweet spirits of ammonia! Feed me 
corn fodder. Presto chango ! — just like that — 
presto chango!” 

Abner could see no laugh in this facetiousness ; in 
fact it rather riled him, and so he returned haugh- 
tily : “Rave on. Old Scarecrow — you and Doc Meyer 
sure would make good pickin’s for the first gold- 
brick drummer that set foot in this county.” 

Malcolm was sufficiently squelched so resumed his 
seat and said no more. However, that night two 
telegrams went to GOLD HILL, INCORPO- 
RATED, one requesting an option on fifty acres of 
land and signed M. & A. Spruce; the other signed 
Sloan Meyer and requesting an option on two hun- 
dred acres. And, incidentally, these two options dis- 
posed of the remainder of the eighteen hundred acres 
owned by GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED 

Three months passed serenely. Every ranch of 
GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED, was sold and the 
landscape was dotted here and there with substan- 
tial new bungalows. But O’Conner and Hicks and 
Warren were not satisfied, for to date only forty- 
five thousand dollars had been paid by the individual 
owners of the ranches out of which nearly five thou- 
sand dollars had been expended for necessities, such 
as advertising, postage and trees, leaving only thir- 
teen thousand, three hundred and some odd dollars 
for each on the divvy. The dissatisfaction arose 
from the fact that each of the three crooks wanted 
more divvy inasmuch as they knew that with the 
working out of the scheme properly they could get 
more. Yet while many an idea had been thrashed 
out, via the theory route, none seemed practical, 
either because it was too flimsy or because the re- 
sult was not a dead certainty. However, through 
a chance remark made by one of the ranchers — it 
was really a suggestion — the proper scheme had 
presented itself and the three set to work on it. 

160 


GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED 


161 


Therefore, as James C. Ryan, President of GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED, sat in the office on this 
sunny afternoon, he dictated to each and every owner 
of G. H., INC., ranches: 

, “Owing to the most urgent need of ready money 
and the present National financial stringency, due 
principally to the war, GOLD HILL, INCOR- 
PORATED, has decided to ‘slice a melon,’ as it 
were, and will cancel upon the immediate payment 
of one-fourth more of your indebtedness, the other 
one-fourth of the total purchase price of your ranch. 
Thus, instead of the ranches costing you fifty dollars 
per acre, they will cost you only thirty-three and a 
half dollars the acre. 

“Can YOU afford to miss this wonderful offer.?” 

The letter worked like a charm, and by the end 
of that week there was in the coffers of GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED, twenty-two thousand, 
five hundred dollars more. Thus, the total divvy 
of O’Conner, alias Ryan, of Hicks, alias Lammert 
and Warren, alias Elgin, was twenty thousand, eight 
hundred and thirty-three dollars each. 

Early in the morning of the last day of August, 
Abner and Malcolm Spruce disconsolately surveyed 
a row of trees on their ranch. 

“Malcolm, do those trees look sick to you.?” 
queried Abner, with a worried frown as he indicated 
the entire ranch with a sweep of his extended arms. 


162 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Malcolm nodded his head and said: “They sure 
do — and it’s a cinch that there’s something wrong 
with them somewhere.” 

Just then Hiram Peck, a neighbor rancher, drew 
rein beside the fence and hailed the brothers with 
the observation: “I see your trees look about as 
bad as mine. I wonder what ails them? It cer- 
tainly can’t be the intensive farming that we’ve taken 
up and besides the weather having been fine all along, 
there’s plenty of water.” He came over to where 
the brothers stood and, taking several leaves in his 
hand continued: “These leaves look like mine — 
worse than blighted and they shouldn’t commence 
to turn until October. I was in town day before 
yesterday and the ranches all along the line farther 
down the road are as healthy as they can be. I 
know what I’m going to do ; consult Professor Kim- 
berly next week.” Wherewith he entered his rig 
again and drove away. 

That night Doc Meyer was a caller at the Spruce 
bungalow. “Boys,” he said, his expression the per- 
sonification of gloom, “I don’t like the way my trees 
are behaving.” 

“What seems to be wrong with them?” queried 
Malcolm. 

“That’s what I’d like to know — they all seem to 
be dying.” 

Doc Meyer’s assertion settled it and immediately 
arrangements were made to consult Professor Kim- 
berly in the morning. 


GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED 


163 


Kimberly, in response to a telephone message, ar- 
rived at the Spruce ranch about noon to be welcomed 
by Hiram Peck, Doc Meyer, the Spruces and 
about half a dozen other GOLD HILL, INCOR- 
PORATED, ranch owners. 

Kimberly made a cursory examination of the leaves 
and some bark from one or two of the trees, then 
asked for a pick and shovel. And thereafter, for 
the greater portion of an hour, devoted himself 
to digging holes around trees in various parts of 
the ranch, not one of the holes being less than three 
feet deep. The others watched on with interest, 
asking no questions, but waiting for the expert to 
speak. 

“Gentlemen,” said Kimberly finally, while his eyes 
narrowed, “there is nothing the matter with your 
trees — they are perfect specimens of very good qual- 
ity — the trouble is in your soil — no tree can grow 
in hard pan.” 

Hard pan soil! Those three words meant doom 
to the owners of GOLD HILL, INCORPORATED, 
ranches. 

Continued Kimberly : “This soil is good for vege- 
tables only. It is not even sandy enough fo;* celery.” 

“What’s it worth an acre, as it now is.?” came the 
query from Doc Meyer. 

“About five dollars an acre.” 

“But it will be more valuable some day, won’t 
it.?” 

“Some day — if the city grows big enough it will 


164 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


be more valuable, but you are some fifteen miles 
from town and as at present there are only twelve 
thousand people here, you can draw your own con- 
clusions.” 

Without waiting for Kimberly to further enlighten 
them, and as if with one accord, the owners of GOLD 
HILL, INCORPORATED, ranches made a bee-line, 
as it were, for the offices of G. H., INC. And, ar- 
rived there, they met their final doom, for the offices 
were barren. Then and then only did they realize 
that they had been swindled. 


CHAPTER XIX 


ASININITY 

The names of O’Conner and Hicks were men- 
tioned for the first time in a year at one of the 
many conferences between Neill, Knight and Jeffries. 

“They must be dead or else they are working in 
the West with fine results,” commented Neill without 
any preliminary designations as to the identity of 
his “they.” 

Both Knight and Jeffries cast an amused look at 
the chief and wondered to whom he alluded. How- 
ever, this mentioning of a continued strain of thought 
without denoting the subject or object was one of 
Neill’s failings and known to the other two — he cred- 
ited others with extraordinary powers of mental 
telepathy which did not exist. 

“ ‘They’ can mean the whole world. Chief,” Jeffries 
reminded his superior of this shortcoming. 

Neill looked up, smiled guiltily and informed his 
auditors: “Pardon me — I was thinking of O’Con- 
ner and Bud Hicks.” 

Consternation shone in the eyes of the Inspector 
and the Sergeant, and Knight asked: 

166 


166 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


‘‘Have you heard of them or seen them?” 

“No.” 

“Then why mention the names of two such trouble- 
makers? We ought to thank our lucky stars that 
they haven’t been worrying us to a frazzle.” 

“I heartily coincide with Bill’s views,” exclaimed 
Jeffries vigorously. 

Neill scowled and, after a hesitation of several 
moments’ duration, he informed the other two: “I 
thought I saw O’Conner over on the boulevard to- 
day, but before I had a chance to get a close-up of 
him to verify my suspicions, the man had vanished 
in the crowd.” 

Both Knight and Jeffries were guilty simultane- 
ously of an explosive oath, and Jeffries said: 

“So they’re back at us again, are they! Well, 
we won’t give them a chance to spoil our peace of 
mind and start any sheenanigans. We’ll get them 
up on suspicion and then get the judge to remand 
them as jailbirds. But I’m thinking they won’t 
ever show up in this town again.” 

Voiced Neill: “I should think they’d be afraid 
to show their faces here seeing that we’re still hold- 
ing down our jobs, even against the change in ad- 
ministrations.” 

Decided Knight — and when he decided anything 
it was as good as an order: “There’s one thing 
certain and that is that if we can help it they won’t 
have a .chance to even show us the reason for their 
presence in this neck o’ the woods.” 


ASININITY 


167 


Knight had scarcely finished speaking when Mor- 
gan, the secretary entered with two cards and, as 
the former read the names thereon, his expression 
darkened and he gnarled aloud: 

“Huh, speak of the devils and they’re sure to 
appear !” 

Neill and Jeffries were on their feet instantly. 

“Let them come in and hear what they have to 
say, but don’t let them leave here until we have 
registered them on the blotter,” was Jeffries’ need- 
less advice. 

“You didn’t think we’d let them get away, did 
you?” said Neill more in the form of an assertion 
than a question. “Nor do I think it wise to allow 
them any privileges.” Then, turning to the wait- 
ing secretary, he ordered: “Show them in.” 

The secretary retreated to the outer office and 
the three police officials turned expectant eyes to- 
ward the door: nor did they have long to wait, for 
almost immediately there appeared in the doorway 
James O’Conner and Bud Hicks. Both men were 
clean-shaven and modishly attired and had the ap- 
pearance of affiuence. And, like two vaudeville 
comedians, they smiled and bowed from the threshold, 
not in the least bit feazed by the greeting scowls 
on the faces of their three sometimes Nemesis. 

Displaying utmost confidence, O’Conner and Hicks 
entered the room and without invitation seated them- 
selves on the nearest chairs. Said O’Conner: 

“Welcome to our city! We are honored— cer- 


168 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


tainly — and hope that you will be with us for quite 
a while.” He smiled extravagantly which, of course, 
aggravated the officials. 

For several seconds the two crooks were the re- 
cipients of baleful glares, but this seeming to dis- 
concert them not in the least, a sudden change came 
over the minions of the law and they thawed out 
with amazing rapidity. 

Neill was the first to speak. Said he: “Things 
must have been coming your way since your escape 
from the penitentiary, judging from your fronts. 
But you had a nerve to come back here — as i ail- 
birds.” 

Again the aggravating smiles and O’Conner re- 
lated: “Oh, it wasn’t so much nerve. And again 
it was. But we took our chances — thought that be- 
cause of this wonderful display of nonchalance we’d 
deserve to be let off and not be compelled to go back 
to that Hell-roost up at the Capital. Seriously, 
we’ve had the time of our young lives the past year 
— everything came our way except new jail sen- 
tences. And why we get a cold reception here — the 
first one we’ve had since we worked our way to lib- 
erty — is beyond me; it isn’t just.” 

“And why are we so favored.?” demanded Jeffries. 

“It was getting too warm for us in the West — 
that is, the police in the various cities we favored 
were making it warmer than we enjoyed,” asserted 
O’Conner. 

“And besides,” augmented Hicks, “we like a change 


ASININITY 


169 


of scenery — I think it was because we were getting 
positively homesick for the sight of the three of 
you and your bobbies.” 

The three officials could not refrain from laugh- 
ing at this. And when the mirth had died Knight 
said: 

“Well, I don’t think we’ll let you go away dis- 
appointed — you may have the same cells that you 
used to occupy while waiting for trial. And as to 
bail — you’re jailbirds, you know, and therefore you 
have no say in the matter whatsoever.” 

“Is that a threat or merely a promise.?”’ inquired 
O’Conner. 

The bravado of the two men seemed to the officials 
to be a mild form of lunacy inasmuch as they had 
walked directly into the hangman’s noose. And it 
worried them not a little to fathom to the basic 
reason for the voluntary return of the crooks. 

Knight arose and crossed to the door which he 
closed and locked, then turning to O’Conner and his 
pal he answered assertively: “It’s both and you 
two may consider yourselves under arrest.” 

“Trapped!” hissed O’Conner between his teeth, 
yet his voice was mocking and he evinced plainly 
that he considered Knight’s assertion less serious 
than jocular. 

<«;N’o — not trapped,” corrected Knight, then ex- 
plained: “It’s just the wheels of the juggernaut 
of Justice turning swiftly and in the proper direc- 
tion.” 


170 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


Hicks arose at this announcement, his cheeks 
white with rage. And he was about to utter a 
tirade when O’Conner checked him by pulling him 
back into his chair. 

“Oh, if that’s all, then we’re perfectly willing to 
be under arrest,” said Con while his face again ex- 
panded into an extravagant smile. He arose and 
Hicks followed suit. 

Neill and Jeffries also now arose and came around 
to them, and Knight, who had been standing at the 
door, unlocked it to fling it wide. And then, with 
Knight leading the way, followed by the two crooks 
who in turn were followed by Neill and Jeffries, 
the quintette proceeded through the outer office. 
It was the intention of the officials to place Con 
and Bud in cells downstairs, but — 

Con was in front of Bud and, just as Knight 
crossed the threshold, he permitted Neill and Jeffries 
to pass out before him and Hicks, then, by a swift 
movement, rightly and forcefully applied, he banged 
the door shut and sprang the lock. Neill’s secre- 
tary, Morgan, was on his feet in a minute with a 
drawn revolver, but before he had time to level it. 
Bud, grasping the situation, pinioned his arms to 
the wall while O’Conner, with a deft blow, rendered 
Morgan unconscious. 

Followed the opening of a window, an exit onto 
a small balcony, and a short walk around this to 
another room. The time required was measured in 
seconds. And, in the meantime, Neill was exerting 


ASININITY 


171 


all his force to ram in the door while Jeffries and 
night ran downstairs to headquarters to give the 
alarm. 

In the room which Con and Bud entered two po- 
licemen, with coats off, were loafing about waiting 
for the time of the new relief to come, their backs 
turned to the entrance way of the crooks and thus 
they were unaware of any alien presence until simul- 
taneously each was grabbed by the throat to be 
choked into insensibility. This episode was the sec- 
ond in which Con and Bud were compelled to resort 
to mere brute tactics. 

It was a matter of but a few moments for the 
two to change clothes for the policemen’s coats and 
helmets, and when they emerged into the corridor, 
police reserves were running in all directions and 
in seeming consternation. So, taking a general hint 
from the excitement. Con and Bud also started to 
run, keeping their features well under cover. And 
thus they were enabled to make their escape. 


CHAPTER XX 


PEEPAREDNESS 

In a room of a second-class hotel two men were 
putting on disguises and from the cosmetics, rouge, 
cold cream, wigs, dresses, etc., which were strewn 
on bed, chairs, floor and other places, an onlooker 
would have thought the two individuals were actors 
of the first magnitude making elaborate preparations 
for an astounding drama. But the two men were 
merely O’Conner and Hicks, and they were on the 
threshold of putting through one of the cleverest 
jobs in their respective careers. 

O’Conner was shaving himself sleek clean and ap- 
plying lotion after lotion to his face, while under 
his breath he muttered, every now and then, the 
word damn. But after a while these mutterings 
stopped because he had succeeded in getting desired 
results, he had persevered until now his skin was as 
soft and as clear as the peach-blow of a woman’s. 
Then he applied cold cream, powder and rouge with 
a deftness that would have done credit to an ex- 
perienced masseuse or dermatologist. 

Meanwhile, Bud was having much sport at the 
172 


PREPAREDNESS 


173 


expense of his pal and which Con bore nobly, soon 
falling into the spirit of it. Bud was donning the 
dress of a footman and had not a little trouble in 
making his elongated sideburns adhere properly. 
So, between the two of them, they laughed more 
than they had done in six months. And finally, 
between much twisting and squirming and squeezing 
and more laughter, O’Conner appeared as a woman 
of fashion, the deception being so good that even 
the keenest eye could not detect the difference. 

Said Bud, with arms akimbo in the prevailing 
fashion adopted for the profession of butlery (Amer- 
ican born, but erroneously British copied) and with 
the same haughty glare that people mistake for per- 
fect English servitors, but which the real English 
butler considers a caricature of himself : “Madame 
Doctor Scoville, ze automobile izz vaiting.” 

O’Conner almost bowled over with mirth, but 
finally managed to say: “Don’t start any of that 
monkey business — remember you’re English and 
you’ve got to drop your ‘h’ in every word where it 
should be and stick it on hard where it shouldn’t 
be.” 

“H’AU right, ye blarsted h’idiot,” said Bud, 
“h’l’U try to remember and do h’it.” 

O’Conner, with perfect grace, bearing and tonal 
inflections, said: “Very well, Deevers, tell Pequin 
that I shall be ready shortly.” 

This begot long and loud laughter and when the 
mirth had subsided O’Conner requested: 


174 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


“Bud, where are those cigars of mine I gave you? 
I want one right now — this very minute.” 

Bud opened his service coat and drew forth two 
cigars, one of which he stuck in his mouth and was 
about to hand the other to Con when he halted with 
the expressed thought: “Nix on the smoke. Con. 
Do you want your breath to smell like a tobacco 
warehouse?” 

“Well, one won’t hurt me — especially as I have 
these perfectly lovely clove breath perfumes.” 

Bud, without a word, handed over the cigar and 
Con put it to his mouth, bit off the end and then, 
glaring at Bud with well assumed anger which soon 
exploded in the verbal railing: “Say, you, how in 
Halifax is a woman supposed to carry matches? And 
I’m not much on chewing cigars — never cared for 
any kind of a chew.” He took the cigar from be- 
tween his teeth and, eyeing it with critical admira- 
tion, ended with: “And it’s some cigar at that!” 

Bud dived into his pocket, drew forth a box of 
matches, ignited a splinter and, with all the assumed 
dignity essential to his character, carried it to Con. 
Then, waiting until his pal had puffed at it once 
or twice, he threw up his hands in mock horror, and 
exclaimed: “My, this ’ere’s the first time h’in my 
life that I’ve ’ad a mistress what’s smoked ceegars 
h’and I’ve worked for h’all kinds from ’ighbrows to 
lowbrows.” 

O’Conner frowned and directed: “Chuck it! 
It’s about time we were getting busy if we’re going 


PREPAREDNESS 


175 


to pull off this stunt before next Fourth of July. 
And now, are you sure that you know your part?” 

Bud nodded affirmatively and said: “I wonder 
what Chuck Warren is doing now. Let’s see, it 
was six months ago that we left him in Salt Lake 
City spending his money like a drunken sailor and 
trying to swim in the lake.” 

“Post-mortems aren’t in order,” O’Conner uttered 
a bit impatiently. 

“No, they aren’t — but clove breath perfumes are 
and instead of asking me whether I know my part, 
you’d better be looking to your own p’s and q’s and 
not be making a small-sized chimney of your nose,” 
retorted Bud. ^ 

Con frowned, growled, threw the half-smoked cigar 
onto a tray on a convenient table and, extracting 
from his purse a small box of clove breath perfumes, 
emptied the whole mess into his mouth from the box. 
And, after a short lapse, he approached Bud and, 
blowing his breath into the latter’s face, inquired: 
“How’s that — cigars or cloves?” 

Bud made a wry face signifying that Con’s breath 
was objectionable to him as he answered: “Cloves 
with a heavy accent. You smell worse than a 
‘Chinee’ joss-house.” 

O’Conner now took up a handsome set of furs 
while Hicks relaxed into his part and together they 
trod down the steps to a waiting limousine, where 
Bud, after holding the door open for his erstwhile 
mistress to enter, and after she had seated herself, 


176 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


closed it, then leaped into the seat beside the chauf- 
feur and immediately the two were driven off. 

Some distance away Bud directed the chauffeur 
to drive the machine to the curb. Here it stopped 
and the mistress alighted. She walked across the 
pavement, threading her way gracefully through the 
crowd in this shopping district and was the recipient 
of admiring glances from many women and more 
men, to the entrance of the exclusive jewelry store 
of Simpson & Burrell. This shop she entered. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A PROSPECTIVE CUSTOMER 

Dustin Chalmers was manager of the exclusive 
jewelry firm of Simpson & Burrell and, at the par- 
ticular moment when Mrs. Dr. Scoville entered, was 
being showered with congratulations by the clerks 
because of the announcement that morning in the 
newspapers of his engagement to Odette Simpson, 
daughter of the retired president. And, spying the 
new entrancee, he advanced toward her smilingly 
and in the winning tone he invariably used when 
approaching customers, inquired: 

“Are you receiving attention?” 

“Thank you,” said the woman ambiguously and 
with the accompaniment of a dimpling smile. And 
she continued in a voice which denoted the quintes- 
sence of culture : “I am Mrs. Doctor Scoville — 
you know, of course, that my husband is the new 
head of the Cold Tar Products Company.” The 
announcement was made rather proudly, it is true, 
yet without one hint of gusto. 

Chalmers nodded, although he knew as much about 
the new company as the average person knows of 
177 


178 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


the verses of the ancient Yomato poets. He had 
read in the paper that there was to be a new indus- 
try located in or near the city and that was all; 
however, as he sensed a sale, he bowed again and in- 
quired: “Is there anything in particular that I 
may have the pleasure of showing you this morn- 
ing?” 

The lady made a little moue, then hesitatingly as- 
sented : “Ye-es, I should like to examine some neck- 
laces — diamonds, if you please.” 

Chalmers did not wait for another hint, but im- 
mediately stepped to the rear of the cases wherein 
reposed, in the most tempting and luxuriant man- 
ner, the costliest stones in the stock of Simpson & 
Burrell, and forthwith proceeded to place several 
necklaces on the small velvet-covered figures retained 
to exhibit in the most inviting fashion the appear- 
ance of the gems. 

As the cases were in the rear Mrs. Scoville fol- 
lowed Chalmers while a footman trailed along and 
then stood by attentively at a respectful distance, 
bearing the handsome furs of his mistress, which 
that lady had discarded upon entering the shop. 

Some little time was lost while Mrs. Scoville sought 
her lorgnette and when she had found it, adjusted 
it to her eyes and, examining the exquisite creations 
with critical approval, she confided to Chalmers with 
just the barest semblance of a pout: 

“You know I did not really expect to come alone 
this morning, but the dear Doctor, my husband, 


A PROSPECTIVE CUSTOMER 


179 


was so terrifically busy that he just couldn’t spare 
the time to come with me.” Here she paused to ex- 
claim rhapsodically over two or three of the patterns 
ere she continued: “You see, to-day is our third 
wedding anniversary and that dear husband of mine 
promised I should have whatever my heart desired 
most. And so, as I’ve always wanted a diamond 
necklace I thought this would be such an appro- 
priate time to get it. Oh, you have no idea what a 
perfect man I married — so thoughtful, so consid- 
erate, so kind! Yet it is positively sinful how very 
busy the poor dear is ever kept — scarcely a moment 
is there that he can truthfully call his own. Oh, 
indeed, he fuUy expected to come down with me to 
help in the selection, but when he found he could 
not be spared he simply insisted that I should come 
without him and use my own judgment. I suppose 
you have read we are giving a dinner-dansante to- 
morrow evening — that is why the Doctor was so in- 
sistent that I should have my necklace at once. You 
see, it’s for the occasion and he’s so particular in 
matters of that sort.” 

Chalmers was favorably impressed by Mrs. Sco- 
ville, for although her manner and her talk spelled 
neuvo riche, he was accustomed to this sort of gush- 
ing, and so now he merely nodded, signifying that 
he was well aware of Dr. and Mrs. Scoville’s coming 
entertainment, although in truth he never even so 
much as glanced at the society columns. 

Chalmers’ prospective customer now turned to the 


180 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


footman and instructed: “Deevers, I wish you 
would tell Pequin to take you over to the garage 
to inquire whether they have found any trace of 
the platinum ring I think I lost just prior to en- 
tering the opera last evening. Also, you may take 
the furs with you as I shan’t need them — and be 
sure to tell Pequin to have the limousine back here 
in about a quarter of an hour.” 

“Very well, Madam,” said Deevers, saluting and 
departing on his errand. 

Mrs. Scoville again gave Chalmers and the neck- 
laces her undivided attention. “Oh, my!” she ex- 
claimed presently. “I do so wish that the doctor 
had accompanied me, for now that I am here and 
see so many exquisite treasures I find it very diffi- 
cult indeed to make my selection. However,” point- 
ing to two necklaces, “it will be one of these,” des- 
ignating one necklace priced ten thousand dollars 
and another one priced seven thousand dollars. 

“They certainly are handsome — in fact, the hand- 
somest we have in the shop and I dare say, you 
could not find better in the city,” agreed Chalmers. 
“And the stones are guaranteed pure blue white and 
absolutely flawless.” He was far too good a sales- 
man to venture too much word play on an article, 
for he knew that to become too voluble is worse than 
to be too reticent. 

Mrs. Scoville continued to gaze longingly at the 
two pieces of jewelry, as if endeavoring to arrive 
at a final decision as to which she would purchase. 


A PROSPECTIVE CUSTOMER 


181 


And, finally, raising her eyes in perplexity, she as- 
serted: “I really should like to have the Doctor 
see these two before I make my selection. I won- 
der” — she hesitated — ‘‘I wonder would it be asking 
too much if you would allow me to take these to 
the plant to show to my husband. Cannot one of 
your clerks accompany me in the limousine 

“Why, certainly, Mrs. Scoville,” said Chalmers, 
only too willing to oblige. “I’ll go myself.” It was 
a daily request made to Simpson & Burrell and so, 
calling a store page Chalmers instructed that a black 
bag be brought to him. This bag he placed on the 
counter while he secured two plush jewel cases from 
a convenient drawer and placed a necklace in each 
case. Next he carefully deposited the two cases 
in the bag. His actions were not hurried and Mrs. 
Scoville watched him with apparently latent interest. 
Finished with this, Chalmers excused himself to get 
his hat and coat, however taking the bag with him. 
And when he returned a page inquired whether he 
knew if Mrs. Dr. Scoville was in the shop. 

“Mrs. Dr. Scoville is right here,” Chalmers in- 
formed the lad. 

“There’s a telephone message for you. Madam,” 
the page stated and proceeded to lead the way. 

The telephone stand was close by and Chalmers 
overhead : 

“Yes . . . Hello, Honey! . . . Yes, Dear, I’m 
going to have one of the salesmen bring two up be- 
fore I make a purchase. . . . What! You’ve been 


182 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


called where? . . . Up the State? . . . When will 
you be home? ... Not before six o’clock? . . . 
Wait until to-morrow morning? . . . All right, 
Dear. Good-by.” 

Mrs. Scoville slowly hung up the receiver while 
her expression was the personification of keenest dis- 
appointment and, turning to Chalmers, she said af- 
fectedly: ‘‘Oh, such a bother! Here the Doctor 
just telephoned that he has been called up the State 
to straighten out some little tangle and that he will 
not return until six o’clock to-night. But he sug- 
gested that if it will not inconvenience you, I call 
for you to-morrow morning at ten in the machine 
and drive you out to the plant.” 

“Why, most assuredly, Mrs. Scoville,” Chalmers 
stated agreeably. “We do all that it is in our power 
to please our customers.” 

Mrs. Scoville smiled and, bidding Chalmers the 
time of day, swishingly took her departure. 

Immediately Mrs. Scoville had quitted the shop, 
Chalmers consulted the Merchants’ Credit Reference 
Guide and finding Scoville read : “B-1 plus.” And, 

without being compelled to refer to the key, he mur- 
mured under his breath: “Hm! That’s five hun- 
dred thousand to one million dollars, cash pay. And 
it’s either a seven or a ten thousand dollar sale.” 
And, consequently, he beamed. 


CHAPTER XXII 


AN EXCITESTG EXPERIENCE 

Dustin Chalmers was ready to accompany Mrs. 
Dr. Scoville to her husband’s plant when she called 
for him promptly at ten o’clock the following morn- 
ing. And, as upon the previous day, the same foot- 
man attended and followed with the wraps. How- 
ever, had Chalmers been more observant he would 
have noted the absence of a chauffeur. 

En route to the factory, Mrs. Scoville conversed 
with pleasant animation: her manner was the hap- 
piest possible and whenever she mentioned the neck- 
laces it was with many little, gleeful, staccato ex- 
clamations. And, withal, she was a very fascinat- 
ing woman indeed ! 

Chalmers kept the bag containing the necklaces 
tightly clasped in his hand during the entire ride. 
Just prior to leaving the shop, he had taken the 
usual precaution to slip one of the newly invented 
hammerless automatic revolvers into his rear hip 
pocket, although he scarcely expected to use it. 

After a long ride the automobile stopped and the 
now chauffeur-footman leaped to the ground and 
183 


184 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


opened the door of the limousine, taking the heavy 
fur wrap which Mrs. Scoville discarded the moment 
she alighted. Chalmers followed her out of the ma- 
chine and, looking around for a busy plant, he saw 
only a rather spacious, old-fashioned house with no 
near neighbors. However, knowing nothing of the 
cold tar industry, his suspicions were not aroused 
and willingly he followed Mrs. Scoville up the plank 
walk to some low steps leading onto a veranda, while 
Deevers brought up the rear. 

Mrs. Scoville started to ascend the steps and either 
her foot caught on something or else she had failed 
to see the second step, but the fact remained that 
at the moment she stumbled and sank to one knee. 
Chalmers instantly rushed to assist her while Deevers 
was but a slight second behind him. And, quite 
naturally, in aiding to get the lady to her feet again 
Chalmers was compelled to place the bag on the 
ground at his side. The entire time consumed could 
be reckoned in seconds. Immediately after Mrs. 
Scoville had regained a standing posture, Chalmers 
picked up his bag. 

“So careless of me, you know!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Scoville, then continued flatteringly: “Nor do I 
know what I should have done had it not been for 
your gallantry, Mr. Chalmers.” 

Chalmers merely smiled. 

Mrs. Scoville now led the way to the door which 
opened into a hallway. Deevers retired. The hall- 
way was bare of carpets, furniture and mural dec- 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 


185 


orations. Leading off on both sides were several 
closed doors. Mrs. Scoville, picking her way dain- 
tily to one of the rear doors, flung it open and a 
minute later called to Chalmers who had remained 
stationary : 

“Oh, Mr. Chalmers, you can talk to my husband 
in this room!” 

Chalmers walked back and entered the room. 
There was a desk here before which sat a youngish 
man, dressed in the height of fashion and who pored 
over some papers. Mrs. Scoville had allowed Chalm- 
ers to enter before her and, as he advanced toward 
the desk, she softly closed the door and noiselessly 
locked it from the inside. And then things began 
to happen. Mrs! Scoville removed her hat with one 
swift movement and with it came a wig and, as 
quickly as possible she removed her dress, revealing 
a man where before had been a woman. Chalmers 
had his back turned and did not notice this trans- 
formation until he was confronted by a revolver in 
the hands of the erstwhile Dr. Scoville. And as 
Chalmers looked he was instantly struck by the sim- 
ilarity in resemblance between the footman and the 
man before him. 

Not a slow thinker by any means, Chalmers turned 
to escape, but only to look into the barrel of a 
revolver held in the hand of the one whom he had 
thought was Mrs. Dr. Scoville. And in that instant 
he realized that he was in a trap — a clever one at 
that, for he saw the clothes of the feminine disguise 


186 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


lying on the floor at the feet of the man. Nor had 
he any time to whip out his own revolver, yet even 
so he stood valiant guard over the bag. 

“You needn’t guard that bag,” said he who had 
been Mrs. Scoville. 

Chalmers flared : “You’ll not get this bag as long 
as I’m living — you’ll have to fight for it.” 

The two men laughed gleefully and the one at 
the desk informed Chalmers : “We don’t want your 
bag and we don’t want to hurt you as long as you 
behave yourself. That’s not our game. In the first 
place, allow me to inform you that there are no 
jewels in the bag you are guarding, and if you don’t 
believe me, why just have a peek yourself.” 

Chalmers stooped down and opened the bag to 
find it empty. When he straightened up again one 
man was on the right side of him and the other on 
the left. Thus his present position was little better 
than if he had been caught in an automatic vise; he 
was practically helpless. 

In the hands of one of the men was a long, stout 
rope such as is used to moor a large launch to its 
pier berth. And while he was getting the noose 
ready with which to tie Chalmers, the other reached 
into the hapless man’s pocket and extracted his re- 
volver. After that, although one of them thor- 
oughly searched Chalmers, looking for knives and 
other weapons, he was soon satisfied that the victim 
was further unarmed, and so, pocketing his own re- 
volver and the one he had confiscated, he and his aide 


AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE 187 


proceeded to tie Chalmers securely with the rope. 
This done the two men walked to the door, it was 
unlocked and thrown open and they departed into 
the hallway. Here again a key was inserted in the 
lock. There was a click, the key was taken from 
its hole, and Chalmers heard retreating footsteps, 
the bang of the outer door, crunching on the gravel, 
the chug of an automobile growing fainter and 
fainter and at last nothing. Silence reigned su- 
preme. 

On the chauffeur’s seat Bud Hicks said: “Well, 
my dear mistress, Mrs. Dr. Scoville, did I nab the 
right bag.? I did. Was it a pretty risky thing to 
do.? It was. Was it—” 

James O’Conner interrupted Bud by completing 
the sentence : “ — all very cleverly planned from the 

substitution of the bag when Mrs. Dr. Scoville, alias 
Jimmy O’Conner, purposely fell on her knee to the 
time known as the present — and all by little me.? 
Decidedly it was! And that poor fool of a man- 
ager will have one lovely time in attempting to ex- 
tricate himself. To whom is all credit due for the 
success of this coup.? Why, to none other than 
Jimmy O’Conner. And because of that we’ll be on 
the Limited at two-thirty-seven this afternoon — 
hours before that simp, What’s-His-Name, can get 
loose.” 

“But how about the make-up.?” inquired Bud. 

O’Conner smiled and answered: “You’re to be 
an Italian laborer while I — ^well, never mind what 


188 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


I’m going to be. But what I’m going to do is to 
loll with luxuriant abandon in a Pullman while you 
are herded in a day coach with other swine.” 

Bud winced and commented dryly: “Hm! It 
comes easy for some people’s children.” 

“So it does,’^ agreed Con. 

And thus the getaway of Con and Bud was con- 
summated. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 

Dustin Chalmers, securely tied, was clever 
enough to realize that he was the necessary victim 
of a pair of exceedingly clever crooks. But that 
was not the burden of his thoughts just now; his 
efforts primarily were directed toward freeing him- 
self so that he might give the alarm and if possible 
apprehend the thieves with the loot on them. Con- 
sequently, for two hours, he worked frantically to 
loosen himself from the fetters which bound him so 
securely. And that he was not successful was not 
his fault. He had utilized every ounce of strength 
possible to garner and therefore, at the expiration 
of the time, utterly exhausted and, despite himself, 
he fell asleep. And when he awoke again it was 
dark night. Also, he was rather weak from hun- 
ger, but notwithstanding he went to the task of un- 
binding himself with renewed and feverish energy. 
And finally, at a little before nine, the laurel of 
success crowned his efforts. However, now that he 
was free another barrier arose, not a very formidable 

one, it is true, yet one which must be taken into con- 
189 


190 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


sideration, and this lay in the fact that in the process 
of extrication his clothes had suffered and he real- 
ized that in order to escape arrest as a suspicious 
prowler and thus delay the chances to catch the 
thieves, he must take to the shadows in order to 
reach his quarters. 

It was an easy matter to raise the sash of the 
window and jump to the ground. Thereafter, by 
cutting across back yards and through open lots 
in a most cautious manner, he managed to reach his 
own quarters without incident shortly after mid- 
night. Here, sitting on the bed for a moment’s rest 
while he thought what to do first in the business of 
the capture of them who had so thoroughly duped 
and robbed him and his employers, Simpson & Bur- 
rell, for he realized that an active brain, one that 
is not so wrought up into a state of almost incon- 
sistency by the pressure of experiences just lived is 
essential to the demands that aid in capturing crooks, 
he, without knowing it, and against his will, toppled 
over asleep. 

It seemed to Chalmers that he had been asleep 
but a few scant minutes when he awoke again. He 
rubbed his eyes sleepily, full consciousness having 
not yet returned, after which leisurely he reached 
under the pillow for his watch. It was not there! 
Then, like a mighty draught, memory returned. One 
of the crooks had taken everything of value that he 
had had upon his person, including his watch. But 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 191 


this was inconsequential as compared to the theft 
of the necklaces. 

Came from the distance the striking of an hour; 
Chalmers counted the tolls — there were seven. He 
was thoroughly puzzled. And because through the 
blinds no light sifted as usual. Therefore, he 
stepped somewhat gingerly across to the window 
and raised the drawn shade. No, his eyes had not 
deceived him as he had thought, for the stars and 
the moon which met his gaze were realistic. Then 
he bethought himself to inquire the time from the 
telephone exchange. 

“Seven-three,” came the answering information. 

“Seven-three what.? Night or- morning?” fairly 
yelled Chalmers. 

“Night, of course,” came back with a giggle. 

And then it dawned upon Chalmers that he had 
slept all day! He was thoroughly awake now, and 
his first act was to notify the police of the affair. 
So, having attended to this by telephone, with a 
single bound, so it seemed, he leaped to the bath- 
room door and literally made the air blue with the 
epithets he called himself while shaving. Twenty 
minutes later he hastily emerged from his quarters 
and had no sooner reached the pavement than mem- 
ory again served to tell him that he was without 
cash. However, and luckily he was known at the 
corner drug store. So he dived into his inside coat 
pocket for his check book only to discover that this 


192 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


too the crooks had confiscated. Therefore, there 
was but one chance left: the clerk in charge of the 
drug store would give him five dollars on his I. O. U. 
This the clerk did. 

Six months ago there had been a reconciliation 
between Silas Simpson and his daughter, and Odette 
had returned to her father’s home just at the time 
when the firm of Burrell & Company had changed 
its name to Simpson & Burrell because Silas Simp- 
son had become its President. 

The Simpson residence was but a few short blocks 
from Chalmers’ quarters — within ten minutes’ walk- 
ing distance. Therefore, at a little before eight 
Dustin rang the front door bell. 

Odette herself answered the summons and flung 
herself into Dustin’s arms with: “Oh, Dustin, Dus- 
tin, dearest, where have you been.?^ What has hap- 
pened.'^ I’ve been simply frantic! And we’ve been 
trying to find you everywhere.” 

Dustin returned the loving embrace and then said : 
“I’ll explain all when I see your father. Is he 
home.f^ I must see him immediately.” 

As if directed by an experienced stage manager, 
just at this juncture Silas Simpson came upon the 
scene and the three, Odette, Simpson and Chalmers 
forthwith proceeded to the library. Here Chalmers 
at once plunged into a detailed recital of the entire 
tragic drama that had been his living experience. 
His recitation was concise, uncolorful and not ex- 
aggerated. 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 193 


Silas Simpson listened attentively and when 
Chalmers had finished his expression was enigmatical ; 
nevertheless, Odette and Dustin were not kept long 
in suspense, for he asked, his voice pregnant with 
suspicion : 

“And do you expect me to believe such a cock- 
and-bull story as that, Chalmers?” 

“Father! Father! Why, what are you saying? 
Don’t you realize what an insult you are offering 
to my fiance?” 

Simpson’s expression grew sterner and he an- 
swered angrily: “I’m saying just what I feel and 
think — nothing more and nothing less.” 

Chalmers arose. His expression was extremely 
pained, but even so, in a clear steady voice he of- 
fered: “Mr. Simpson, I have been in the employ 
of your firm for almost seven years, have advanced 
from an ordinary salesman to manager. I have been 
in your employ since you came to the company as 
President. Now, in all that time, I have never given 
you nor your predecessors any cause to doubt my 
honesty, my reliability, but here, at the first oppor- 
tunity, you make the accusation that I have stolen 
two diamond necklaces. Not in so many words, but 
by your insinuation you have called me a thief with- 
out allowing me to prove myself. Therefore, I ap- 
peal to you. Is that fair? Is that just?” 

Said Simpson: “Since I have taken charge of 
the firm I have investigated every employee. Ru- 
mors have reached me that for the past few months 


194 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


you have been gambling pretty freely — and for enor- 
mous stakes at that. Need I say more?” 

Chalmers laughed, but there was no mirth in it, 
and he said: “I shall not argue with you.” And 
admitted: “I do not deny that I have been gam- 
bling, but I gamble proportionately, no more than 
you nor any of the other men at the Club — I keep 
within my bounds. It is my recreation the same as 
it is yours. You know that I draw a salary of ten 
thousand dollars a year and have no one to spend 
it on except myself. You also know that I have 
saved thirty thousand dollars — that I confided to 
you when I requested your sanction of my marriage 
to Odette. I am not in debt — ^have never been. Yet 
with all this you accuse me of stealing necklaces 
which are worth only about ten thousand dollars. 
Now, I ask you whether that is consistent or even 
clever?” 

“Yes, it is clever — exceedingly so,” Simpson as- 
serted. “Thirty thousand dollars plus seventeen 
thousand — the amount for which you could sell the 
necklaces — make forty-seven thousand, and at the 
rate that diamonds are advancing, within the next 
three or four months you would be able to realize 
at least three thousand dollars more for your^ — ^your 
plunder. Quite a fortune! Quite a snug nest-egg! 
And clever? Under the circumstances it is a master- 
stroke! But what surprises me is that you should 
ever have condescended to work for a living.” 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 195 


“Mr. Simpson,” said Chalmers, his voice firm with 
determination, “there is just one thing that I am 
going to do, that I must do — ^make you apologize, 
not now, but when I have proven to you conclu- 
sively that I have told you the absolute truth. And, 
moreover, your apology will come within the next 
twenty-four hours.” 

Simpson, even despite the ring of sincerity in 
Chalmers’ voice, remained firm in the belief of the 
manager’s guilt and verbally assailed him sneeringly 
by saying: “Oh, I do not doubt that it will be a 
very simple matter for you to prove an alibi. But 
don’t think that you can hoodwink me for one mo- 
ment. Your plans may have been cleverly laid and 
your woman accomplice would most assuredly make 
a capable actress. Also, you knew that your con- 
nection with us — ^that is, the recent announcement 
of Odette’s engagement to you and the scandal and 
unpleasant notoriety which would follow your ex- 
posure would cause me to hesitate and to ponder long 
and earnestly ere causing your arrest. Yes, indeed, 
I have figured just as you did — that seventeen thou- 
sand dollars is dirt cheap to have paid for the dis- 
covery of your real character before it was too late. 
But I thank the great Jehovah that it is not too 
late.” 

Chalmers clenched his hands tightly at his sides 
and, standing rigidly erect, his head held up defi- 
antly, he sought Odette’s eyes. But not a word 


196 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


could he utter, for he realized that at the present 
moment all argument would be futile, realized that 
he must prove his innocence. 

Simpson now resumed: “I shall not dictate to 
my daughter — she is old enough and has sufficient 
sense to make her own choice. But she will have 
to choose, at the expiration of the next twenty-four 
hours, between a thief and her father. If she de- 
cides to accept you she must leave my house imme- 
diately — and if she does I shall compel you, one way 
or the other, to marry her at once.” 

Chalmers turned to Odette with his expression 
melting from well warranted, almost uncontrollable 
anger to insistent appeal. Yet what he sought for 
in Odette he found not, for she looked first towards 
her father, then toward Chalmers, without giving 
either the right. And then, the next instant, un- 
nerved, she burst into tears. 

Chalmers was beside her instantly, saying: 
“Odette, sweetheart, before God I told you and your 
father the plain, unvarnished truth. I want you to 
believe that. This is a test of your love for me. I 
do not ask you to believe nor to disbelieve me now. 
All that I ask is that you withhold judgment for 
twenty-four hours. However, if you elect, we shall 
be married at once, for I can get a position with 
Hennecke’s at exactly the same salary that Simpson 
& Burrell pay me, and in the same capacity as man- 
ager. I have withheld this news all along because 
I had no idea of changing my allegiance and my 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 197 


services. But now that I am forced into action I 
shall say that their offer is a standing one. I am 
ready to take you now if you desire to come.” 

Sobbingly, Odette pleaded: ‘‘Oh, don’t, please 
don’t make me decide to-night. I want you to wait 
until you have proven the truth of the affair. You 
said that you could — within twenty-four hours 
and — ” 

Said Chalmers with the sting of the deep heart- 
hurt, making his tones verge upon the sarcastic: 
“So this is what you term love! So this is what 
you term confidence — faith! You want proof of 
my honesty — ^you can’t take my word for it. And 
this in the beginning — even before the beginning.” 

“Oh, can’t you understand — won’t you wait — 
please, please.? Can’t you understand that father 
has proven himself to me while you — you have had 
no chance ? Can’t you — oh, won’t you understand .?” 

“Yes, I understand — understand that you are 
not convinced of my veracity — that you have no 
faith in me, in my competency to be trusted with 
your future. Yes, it is all perfectly clear to me. 
However, I shall ask you once more to decide — your 
father or me. Which.?” 

Sobs, only sobs was the answer. 

Chalmers reached for his coat and hat and said: 
“Odette, I am sorry — ^heartbroken, but — must ask 
you to release me from any and all promises that I 
gave you as I herewith release you. Your father 
is a witness. If you wish to return the engagement 


198 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


ring, do so at your convenience, but if you keep 
it you will have merely a keepsake — it will not sig- 
nify aught else.” He walked slowly from the room 
and as slowly opened the door. There, with his 
hand on the knob, he paused, half expecting to hear 
Odette call to him. But the only sound was her 
sobbing. And as he crossed the threshold his eyes 
smarted and his lips were parched. So, almost 
blindly, he walked back to his own quarters. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


o’conneb’s caeeee ends 

Accoeding to plans, Buds Hicks, disguised as an 
Italian laborer, rode in the chair car of the same 
train that O’Conner, also disguised, rode in the Pull- 
man. Bud had concealed on his person the necklace 
which would retail at seven thousand dollars, Chalm- 
ers’ pocketbook and diamond stickpin, while O’Con- 
ner had in his pocket the necklace which would re- 
tail at ten thousand dollars, Chalmers’ gold ring 
and watch. 

A waiter from the dining car entered the Pullman 
with the familiar: “First call for dinner! Diner 
ahead !” 

Instinctively, O’Conner drew forth a watch — 
Chalmer’s watch — and opened it to see the time, and 
was about to close it again when his attention was 
attracted to a picture photographed inside the case. 
Frowningly he studied it and then slowly but well, 
memory served him, served to picture to him a 
Christmas scene where he, as a bogus Santa Claus, 
stopped before a church and was persuaded to enter 
by a young girl. And this photograph in the watch 
199 


200 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


bore a striking resemblance to that girl. Why 
couldn’t he think of her name.^ He endeavored to 
do so and was about to give up in despair when 
he noticed in small writing across the bottom of the 
photograph the name, Odette Simpson. That was 
it! And as he still studied it an inspiration came 
to him. 

The train entered a small town and a man alighted 
from the Pullman. It was O’Conner! He had not 
let Bud know of his intention — nor would be. Se- 
curing a time table he looked at it, then consulted 
the train bulletin outside the depot, saw checked 
thereon the fact that a train was due for the city 
he had just left and wherein resided Odette Simpson 
and Dustin Chalmers, within twenty minutes. So 
he purchased a ticket and a sleeper-berth and when 
that train did arrive, boarded it. Consequently, the 
next morning there stepped out of an automobile 
at the curb of Simpson & Burrell a man who, look- 
ing to neither right nor left, hurried back to the 
private offices in the rear of the store and asked 
for Mr. Chalmers. 

“Mr. Chalmers is no longer connected with this 
firm,” came the information. 

“What’s the trouble.?” inquired the man. 

“Don’t know except that he resigned yesterday 
afternoon; however, if it’s anything important, Mr. 
Simpson is here and you may speak to him.” 

This the man desired to do. And later: 

“Mr. Simpson, I have something of the utmost 


O’CONNER’S CAREER ENDS 


201 


importance to communicate to you, but only when 
Miss Odette Simpson and Mr. Chalmers are pres- 
ent.” This the introductory remark of the man, 
O’Conner. 

Simpson was excitedly interested and in a stage 
whisper desired to know: “Has it anything to do 
with two necklaces — two diamond necklaces.'*” 

O’Conner had taken the third degree several times 
in his life without flinching and, as this was mere 
play in comparison, he, without even batting an 
eye, insisted: “I said that I would not talk until 
the two persons I just mentioned are present.” 

Simpson saw there was nothing else to do so he 
complied with the stranger’s request. 

And half an hour later: 

Odette Simpson was the flrst to arrive and, as 
she entered her father’s private office, she halted 
abruptly, scrutinized the stranger and then ex- 
claimed: “Why, Mr. O’Conner — what are you do- 
ing here !” 

O’Conner was about to answer when the door 
opened again and the three inside beheld Dustin 
Chalmers standing on the threshold. And then, ad- 
vancing with his finger pointed toward O’Conner, 
he cried: 

“That’s one of them!” 

O’Conner did not flinch; he was not the sort to 
cower; instead, he remained standing. And after 
a momentary lull and looking at Odette he asserted : 
“Yes, I am one of them — and it is only because of 


202 


O’CONNER’S CAREER 


this little girl here and the fact that her picture 
was in your watch, Chalmers, causing me to put 
two and two together, that I am here at this mo- 
ment. The other one, my pal, you will never get.” 
He reached into his pocket, extracted a plush case, 
Chalmers’ watch and ring and proffered them to 
Odette. 

Odette took the articles and immediately opened 
the plush box, revealing therein one of the neck- 
laces. Then, turning to Chalmers, she said appeal- 
ingly : “I never had any doubt, dearest — and I was 
prepared to come to you at the expiration of the 
twenty-four hours.” 

Chalmers did the expected: he crushed the girl 
to him in a long and loving embrace. 

Meanwhile, O’Conner had walked to the door and 
was about to exit when Simpson called to him to 
halt. And, turning about face, O’Conner looked 
into the barrel of an automatic revolver. But he 
was not feazed, for, wheeling about, and with one 
swift movement he banged the door behind him. And 
as he did so a shot rang out. There was a groan 
from outside and O’Conner sank to the floor, for 
the bullet had pierced a clean hole through the wood 
and found a home in O’Conner’s body. 

Odette was the first to reach him. 

“I got mine at last — ^Miss Simpson — ^it was com- 
ing to me — and — and I guess — ^Neill and his — ^his 
bunch will be — happy,” O’Conner managed to gasp. 

“I’m sorry — so sorry for you, but — ” 


O’CONNER’S CAREER ENDS 


203 


Odette saw that it was useless to say more, for 
O’Conner had breathed his last. And so, with a 
little shudder and a saddened expression, the girl 
sought the arms of the man she loved. 

Thus ended the career of the notorious James 
O’Conner, alias Con, alias Wilkshire, alias Joseph 
Dodd, alias James Ryan, alias Mrs. Dr. Scoville, 
et al. 


THE END 




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